Sweet Child
by kathybrownie
Summary: A story about Sherlock's childhood with Mycroft and Sherrinford (mentioned in 'His Last Vow'),includes their family, his school life, Redbeard and Sherlock becoming the man he is today.
1. Chapter 1

The room was small but comfortable, and had a homely feel to it. There was a lit fire and outside the window was a crisp January morning, the street tinged with light snow. The fading walls were pale yellow and gathered around a large oak table in the centre of the room, bulging with presents and an enormous cake, reading simply 'five' in cursive icing, sat the five members of the Holmes family.

'Come on, blow out the candles Sherlock, then you get to open the presents!' said the woman in her early forties to the sullen looking child, swamped in gifts. She had mousy brown hair that was starting to turn grey, and eyes full of experience. It wasn't easy being the Mother of three boys, especially her boys, who were, what she liked to call, 'extra special'.

Sherlock turned to his Mother and studied her, 'This is stupid, I know what each present is.'

'Lucky you, now blow out you candles' Mycroft said with a slight edge, at 12 years old he had better things to than watch his younger brother pretend to have a grain of intellect. Mycroft though Sherlock was such a baby, always wanting to play detectives with him and come in his room. Though, if you were to ask Sherrinford, the oldest son of the Holmes family, at aged 15, he would have same the same thing in regards to them both.

Although Sherrinford, Mycroft and their Father were hard to tell apart, both with brown, straight hair and eyes constantly narrowed in thought, Sherlock was quite different. For his age he was very tall and had jet black hair in messy curls, scattered around his face in a way that even his Mother couldn't tame.

The three boys minds were identical, though any one of the three would be offended if you told them so. They all had the same way of thinking, always searching for logical reasoning, with a perception past their years.

'I will,' Sherlock said turning to Mycroft, 'I just have to make a wish.' Mycroft scoffed, Sherrinford sat in his chair, looking as uncomfortable and sullen as ever, their Father leaned heavily on his right arm, which supported his head, as if he was on the verge of sleep. He often looked like this especially these days, when work was hard and three boys were harder.

Sherlock squeezed his eyes tight, in complete concentration, and with a huge breath, blew out the five small, flickering candles.

'You know that wishes don't really come true, don't you?' Mycroft sneered, but Sherlock just smiled, because he knew his would. What Sherlock had wished for, and had wanted for as long as he could remember, was a dog.

Of course, Sherlock wasn't supposed to know he was going to get a dog, it was going to be a surprise birthday present that very afternoon, though it was hard to keep anything a surprise with the Holmes children around.


	2. Chapter 2

Sherlock, as usual, was right in his assumptions, and just as he predicted, a puppy arrived with his Grandparents that very afternoon. Though, something else arrived too that was entirely unexpected.

The tiny puppy couldn't have been anymore than two months old, and looked around in amazed excitement as he raced around Sherlock's bedroom. The bedroom itself was quite plain, with blue walls and a lighter blue carpet. There was a small neatly made bed, but no toys scattered around, or any of the other things you would expect of a typical five year old.

If it was possible of Sherlock, he looked even more excited than the dog, he giggled happy every time it so much as didn't even have to think of names, he already knew exactly what to call his dog, he'd been planning this moment for a very long time, and it was perfect. 'Redbeard' Sherlock tried to command, though the playful puppy didn't listen, 'Come here, Redbeard!' This time he turned to look, though just barked and continue to happily chase his tale. Sherlock smiled, he had already fallen in love with his new pet.

The name Redbeard was not because of his chestnut fur, it was because Sherlock wanted this dog to be his shipmate when he finally fulfilled his dreams, for as long as Sherlock could remember, he had wanted to be a pirate. Sherlock wanted to sail all around the world, discovering places, with no-one telling him what to do, or when to go to bed. If he was a pirate Mycroft would never ever be mean to him, he wouldn't have to start school in a few weeks time, and he could do whatever he wanted.

Sherlock was excited to start school, and finally meet some children his own age though, he was also nervous, and Sherlock didn't like feeling nervous at all.

Redbeard continued bouncing around the room, and after a while of watching him chase his own tail, Sherlock got bored, and went to open the other present his Grandparents had gotten him.

With all Sherlock's other presents, he had been able to tell exactly what they were, just from looking at the wrapping paper tape, though with this one, he hadn't got the faintest idea what could be inside. It was in a shiny, silver box, topped with a red bow, Sherlock was sure it was in this box because they didn't want him to know what it was, Sherlock hated surprises, he hated not knowing even more. This wasn't just because he liked being smart, which of course he did, but all Sherlock really wanted was to be just as clever as his big brothers. It was hard being the youngest, especially in the Holmes family, whatever he did, he never as good as his genius brothers were.

But, opening the silver box, Sherlock finally had an opportunity to do something neither of his brothers ever had. Inside the box, was a polished oak violin, with a small, delicate bow. Sherlock picked it up in awe, just as his Mother walked in.

She leaned against the wall and crossed her arms, 'So you like it, huh?'

Sherlock looked up, and on his face was an enormous grin. This was the best day he could think of, Redbeard, and his own instrument, which he knew he would learn to play well, not even well, better than his brothers ever could.

With in hours, Sherlock could play simple tunes, after a few days, he could site read music, and within a week he was composing.

Sherlock loved Redbeard even more than his violin, everyone in the Holmes family did, but Redbeard didn't always want to do what Sherlock wanted to do, and simply refused to learn and sort of tricks.

Sherlock and Redbeard would play in the park, his parents looking over them from a near by bench, huddled under coats, in the ever cold late January, but that didn't stop Sherlock. He wore a green jumper and an oversized blue scarf, one he would keep for many years and leaped about in an almost synchronized manor with Redbeard, who by now he had become inseparable from.

Sherlock and Redbeard did all sorts of things together, they hunted for clues to dangerous murders, they ran from robbers, and hunted down evil pirates. Sherlock laughed and Redbeard barked, they played chase and Sherlock taught Redbeard how to work out what was happening from clues around him. Redbeard was Sherlock's first friend, though school was starting soon, and he could make more.


	3. Chapter 3

Sherlock stared into the mirror and scowled, he didn't want to have to wear such a stupid uniform, what was wrong with his clothes? The shirt was tight around his neck so he felt like he couldn't breath, he pulled at it roughly until it loosened.

Even worse, his Mother had insisted of making his hair 'look presentable', so it was gelled back in a way that made his whole face look pointy, he shook his head and despite the gel, the curls came tumbling out, so he looked more like his usual self. He smiled, that was a lot better.

'Sherlock! Come on, you don't want to be late on your first day!' his Mother called from the kitchen. Sherlock turned and leapt down the flight of crooked stairs.

'Oh, Sherlock, look at your hair, what am I going to do with you?' she sounded almost amused as she stared at her son proudly, it was a big day and meant her last baby was starting to grow up, much too soon for her liking. Though the Holmes boys were hard, Violet wouldn't have traded them for the world.

'Can Redbeard come?' Sherlock asked, though he already knew the answer, 'Not everyday, just for now, until I get used to school'

'No Sherlock, I'm sorry, but dogs aren't allowed' Violet said kindly, she could tell Sherlock was really nervous, but was obviously trying to hide it, probably because he thought his brothers would make fun of him. Sherlock's siblings could be mean, but she knew they'd do anything to defend their little brother.

Sherlock was going to be attending St. Marks for Gifted Children, and Violet was sure he would fit in, well, almost sure.

As Sherlock and is Mother drove to the school, Sherlock kept switching from being very nervous to very excited, Violet just smiled and listened quietly as he told her he was going to have an amazing time, but what if he didn't? He as going be really nice, but what if people were mean? He was going to learn lots, but what if it was boring?

Sherlock used he word 'bored' a lot, which was inexplicable, with a mind like his, he could read a person in a second, and know almost everything about them. His brothers were the same, Sherrinford was the worst, though he usually kept it to himself. Mycroft loved to brag about how he knew could tell what a person was like by looking at them, though, he could, fantastically well. These traits often lead to Mycroft and Sherrinford getting into some sort of hot water, though they were smart enough to get out of it. Violet hoped Sherlock would fit in more than his siblings, though she really doubted he would, and anyways, the Holmes family had built up quite a reputation at St. Marks for having genius, though simply frustrating children. The Holmes boys could learn anything you gave them in only a couple of hours, be it a language, a story or, as Sherlock did, an instrument.

Finally, Sherlock arrived at his first day of St. Marks. Bundled up in his large, blue scarf, face pink from cold, he walked towards the big gates that loomed ominously overhead, Though, as he got closer, he saw children playing on a huge green field, and all fear slipped away. Sherlock didn't think he'd ever seen so many children, some looking sad to be leaving their Mothers, some older children who were used to the system by now, some playing happily and others looking very alone.

'I have to go, I'm going to be late for work Sherlock, will you be alright on your own?' Violet asked worriedly, though Sherlock just nodded and walked away.

Sherlock was walking towards a short girl, all by herself, and clearly very nervous. Her hair hanged loose and dead straight, there was a red ribbon on the side of her head, she stared down with wide hazel eyes, looking uncomfortable.

As Sherlock walked towards her, he started noticing things; 'only child', 'likes reading', 'has a cat'.

'Hello, I'm Sherlock', he said when he got close to her, 'It's my first day here, yours too?' Of course Sherlock already knew it was, he was just trying to be polite. The girl nodded shyly and half smiled, Sherlock could see she was missing a tooth, it had obviously fallen out already.

'I'm Sophie,' the little girl said quietly, 'I don't know anyone here'

'Me neither, do you want to be friends?' Sherlock asked hopefully. Sophie looked up and smiled very widely.

Sherlock didn't really know what to do after that, he had never had a friend before, and it was clear after spending a few minutes with Sherlock, Sophie thought he was very odd, the way he talked and acted was very smart, but she didn't seem to mind.

After a little while, a teacher came out, to call in the new students. She had kind eyes, and was smiling, she looked young, and excited to welcome the five year old to her class.

For Sherlock, everything was going a lot better than he had expected, he had met Sophie, and was sitting next to her in class, and his teacher was so friendly. Sherlock could tell she wasn't really that happy, but was glad she was trying to make them all feel welcome. Words like 'lonely' and 'scared' surrounded he, but Sherlock couldn't tell quite why.

'Im your new teacher, you can call me Miss Ford.' she said.

She told them all about how it worked at St. Marks, how they would stay in this class until year six, where they could go to a new school, or stay on.

They started on some maths work, within minutes Sherlock was finished, Miss Ford came over to him,

'My, done already? You must be Sherlock, Mr Greene told me you'd be joining.' Sherlock looked down, wondering if she had been told bad things, he'd tried so hard to be good and polite, but it seemed like the teacher didn't like him already.

'I think were going to have to give you a lot harder work to do, don't you?' Sherlock looked up and grinned, his green eyes full of joy, he could tell he was really going to enjoy school.


	4. Chapter 4

Though Sherlock was determined to have a good time at school, most of the children thought he was really quite weird. He'd try to talk to them, he'd tell them something he knew about them, they'd get annoyed and leave. Sherlock really didn't understand what he was doing wrong; he just wanted to be friends! Though, the one person who Sherlock could always count on was Sophie, she was just as awkward as him and seemed to enjoy his company. Even better, Sophie loved pirates and detectives as much as Sherlock so they could always find a game to play.

It was only a few weeks into the term before Sherlock got bored of school, everything they learnt was too easy or stupid and pointless, when would he ever need to know about how many planets there were? Whenever Sherlock got bored in school, he would play deductions in his head. He would look at the people all around him and try and work things out. Today the question was 'what did they have for breakfast?'. Miss Ford had left in a hurry, and took a cereal bar, Sophie had cornflakes (but she did tell him so that one didn't count) and Jeremy ate toast, along with two biscuits when his Mother's back was turned.

"Sherlock?' Miss Ford repeated,Sherlock looked up, wondering what he had missed.

'Do you know the answer Sherlock?' Miss Ford asked again. Sherlock looked around hopelessly, he couldn't even remember what subject this was. He looked at Sophie, she shrugged her shoulders, clearly she hadn't been paying attention either.

Some children began to giggle, Sherlock always acted so smart, it was nice for him not to know the answer. It wasn't nice for Sherlock though, he scowled sullenly, hunching his shoulders.

'Ok, Ryan, do you know the answer?'

That break, Sherlock discovered something which was, in his opinion, brilliant. There was a school orchestra, and they needed a violinist, finally, he'd be able to show off how he could play, better than everyone else. He put his name in his scrawling handwriting on the piece of paper and walked away proudly.

He went to find Sophie, he couldn't find her for a few minutes, and when he did, he was surrounded by a group of tall girls, leering over her.

'How come you're so short?'

'What are you going to do, cry?'

'Stupid, smelly Sophie'

'No wonder you don't have any friends'

Sherlock felt a piercing rage, how could they be so mean to Sophie? She'd never even seen them before! He ran up to them.

'Hey!' Sherlock shouted at the top of his lungs, 'leave her alone!'

The girls turned and looked at him, the biggest, meanest girl laughed,'Why do you care, are you her boyfriend? Anyways, you can't stop me' she leaned towards him in a threatening manor. Sherlock didn't flinch. Sherlock never flinched. She turned back to Sophie, and was about to start the taunting again when,

'It's not her fault that you dad shouts at you.' Sherlock said, the girl sharply turned and stared at him.

'How did you know that?' she asked, she sounded frightened, as if she knew Sherlock could tell all her secrets from looking at her, which of course he could.

Words like 'hurt', 'wants her family', 'hungry', 'scared' floated around her.

'Just leave her alone' Sherlock said as threateningly as he could muster, he doubted it sounded very serious, his voice was much to childlike to sound scary, though the girl glared as she stormed away. The other girls looked at each other and trailed slowly after her.

Sophie looked at him gratefully, it was clear that nothing like that had ever happened to her before, and she was shook.

'How did you know about that girl's dad?' she asked, unlike the bully, she sounded genuinely curious, and impressed, Sherlock had tried to not deduce too much as everyone else seemed to find it annoying.

Sherlock shrugged, and looked down, it wasn't embarrassing, in fact he was proud of it, but he didn't want to make Sophie leave him.

'I dunno, I've just always been able to do it I guess.'

'Wow, thats like a superpower or something!' Sophie said in awe.

'No it's not!' Sherlock said, 'I just work it out from clues, that girl was wearing the same shirt as yesterday, from the two day old spill. She also has bags under eyes, probably because she couldn't sleep, possibly because of loud noise or shouting. She was being mean to you for no reason, suggesting someone is acting that way to her. Not someone our age, she had friends. Not her Mother, her hair was done in a high plait, most likely by a parent, usually the Mother. That only leaves her Dad. Also the way her fist clenched showed fear, she was scared of hat she was doing, she didn't want to be like him though didn't know what else to do.'

Sophie stared at him, her head titled, she was silent.

She finally opened her mouth,'Teach me.'

Teaching Sophie to play deductions was probably the most challenging thing Sherlock had ever done. It didn't come naturally to her, the way it did to Sherlock and his brothers and she didn't understand the rules properly. Though, it was also fun. Sherlock had never had a real challenge before and it stimulated his brain, making him think faster and better.

'So you see, all you have to do is look at things you don't usually notice, and then you'll know lots of new things. Take a look at Gaby.'

'What whats different about Gaby?' Sophie asked.

'Just try looking' Sherlock said patiently.

'Well, she hasn't got a plait today..'

'And why wouldn't she have plait?'

'Because her Mum was busy?' Sophie looked to Sherlock to see if she was right.

'Why would she be busy, what did she look like last time you saw her?'

Sophie screwed up her face in concentration, 'Umm, wait! I remember! Last time we saw Gaby's Mum she was pregnant, so now, Gaby has a new sister!' she looked up triumphantly, 'I'm right aren't I?'

Sherlock stared at her, 'How did you know it was a sister?'

'Because this morning Gaby was drawing a picture of a bear and wrote under it _to Sasha_'

'That was really good Sophie!' Sherlock was surprised how much fun it was, he thought he would be annoyed that Sophie deduced something he hadn't, but he didn't, for once, being the smartest didn't really matter, as long as they were smartest together.


	5. Chapter 5

That weekend, Sophie was going to Sherlock's house for the first time. Sherlock had been sitting on the bottom step, waiting for the familiar sound of a ringing doorbell.

'Move Sherlock,' Mycroft pushed him out out of the way with his foot.

Sherlock scowled, 'Go away Fat-croft', he mumbled.

Mycroft stiffened and turned around, 'Your just annoyed because you girlfriend hasn't come'

'She'll be here' Sherlock said, 'and Hey!', he shouted at Mycroft, who had started to walk towards the living room, book in hand, 'She's not my girlfriend!'

A faint sound of two pairs of steps could be heard from outside, getting louder as they approached the house, Sherlock jumped up off the step and leaped across the hall to the front door,pulling it open just as Sophie's Mother was about to reach the doorbell.

'Oh, um, Hello' Sophie's Mother started, she looked almost completely opposite to Sophie, except for the huge brown eyes that were full of kindness and warmth.

'Is your Mother here?' she asked. Sherlock didn't really like talking to adults so he just nodded briefly, and lead them to the old kitchen, where Violet was sitting, reading a news paper.

'Hi, you must be Sophie's Mother!' Violet introduced herself and offered he a drink as Sherlock lead Sophie upstairs.

When they got there, Sophie looked around in surprise, 'Where are all your toys?'

Sherlock looked down embarrassed, 'I don't really have any, I've got books though.'

She looked up at him in surprise, 'Grown up books?'

Sherlock nodded, 'Mycroft says I'm bad at reading though, he says he could read them twice as quickly as me'

'Sherlock, I can't even read picture books properly yet.' Sophie said in awe.

'You can't?' he seemed just as surprised as Sophie.

'Well of course not, thats why we're going to school, to learn stuff like reading.'

'Oh, I haven't really been paying attention to what we learn.' Sherlock said, he was quite proud, maybe he wasn't as stupid as Mycroft told him. Or maybe everyone else was really stupid. Not Sophie though, Sophie was smart, she played deductions with him and sometimes beat him, though he would never tell anyone that.

Just the Redbeard came running in, he'd been out on a walk with Sherlock's Father, Michael. Sophie screamed as Redbeard ran up to her and started trying to lick her face.

'It's ok' said Sherlock, 'He just wants to play with us'. He pulled Redbeard off Sophie, she giggled.

'I've never had a dog before, what's his name?'

'Redbeard,' said Sherlock, 'He's going to be on my pirate ship when I grow up.

'Ooo! Can I be on your pirate ship too Sherlock?' Sophie asked excitedly.

'Definitely' said Sherlock, smiling.

Sherlock and Sophie spent he rest of the day running around in the Holme's family garden. It was large with many different types of flowers, but a little overgrown and muddy, mainly because Redbeard was always trying to dig holes. Sherlock liked to think he was searching for treasure, hidden long ago.

Sherlock didn't want the day to ever end, but of course it did in what felt like a flash.

'Next time you have to come to my house, ok Sherlock?' he nodded, he couldn't wait to see Sophie again.

As Sophie walked down the drive with her Mother, Redbeard ran after her, barking, and trying to pull her back into the house. When earlier that day she had been scared, now she laughed. Sherlock felt exactly the same as Redbeard though, he didn't want his friend to leave.

Strange as it seemed, Sophie and Sherlock never really did leave each other, they remain each others firm, and only, friends for a long time.

Five years on, Sophie was quite different. Rather than being shy and embarrassed, she was confident and happy. She felt that it was Sherlock who made her that way, though she would never tell him that, it sounded soppy and stupid.

Sherlock was still just as awkward but smiled more, and now knew he was more clever than anyone in their school, he didn't let his brother bully him in the same way. They both still looked the same though, only taller, and Sophie's hair had grown very long. The two children still played the same sorts of game though, especially deductions, which was a mutual favourite.

'You ready?' Sophie asked Sherlock, it was the first day of their last year of primary school. Sherlock nodded, his hair was messy from the wind and around his neck was a blue scarf, which was no longer too big for him. Sophie had a red ribbon in her hair, just as she did when Sherlock had first met her, though now she didn't look scared or alone. Neither did he.


	6. Chapter 6

In 1989, nothing about the appearance of the Holmes House had changed, it was still just as welcoming as it always had been. The people inside were just the same. Violet was just as kind and caring, Redbeard was just as playful and happy (though he had grown considerably), Mycroft was still pretentious and Sherlock was still, well, Sherlock. The one person who was no longer in the house was Sherrinford, after graduating university at 18, he was offered a very important, or so his family assumed, he wasn't allowed to discuss his job, even if he did come to visit, which he hadn't in the last two years. Mycroft, at 17 had already started university, but was living at home until he graduated, when he assumed he would also be offered a government position.

Despite Sherlock's intelligence, he was clearly the least smart of the Holmes' boys, and it was often hard for him, though his parents didn't seem to be at all concerned. It was odd in the Holmes family, the parents were completely ordinary, though each of their children were geniuses.

Sherlock was smarter than all the children in his school he had been since he was five years old, and now he was 10, he was smarter than all the teachers. The one thing Sherlock was not able to do however, was sport. He was spelling champion, in the school orchestra, could do any sum in seconds, but Sherlock Holmes could not throw a ball to save him life.

Sophie, Sherlock's one and only friend, stuck to Sherlock like glue, they were never seen apart. He had taught her how to make deductions and she had taught him how to socialise, which he still wasn't brilliant at, though, to be honest, neither was she.

When a sports tournament was chosen to take place at their school, St. Marks for gifted children, neither of them were especially pleased.

On the day of the tournament, schools from all around England arrived at St. Marks gates, some with only their most talented athletes, some with all their students and some with anyone who wanted to come. Everyone from year 6 of St. Marks had to take part in at least one event, much to Sherlock and Sophie's dismay. There were many events to choose from though; running, basketball, football, cycling, swimming races, tennis, and more. In addition to this, each student would spend he time they weren't competing, doing some sport related activity; friendly matches, swimming or so called 'fun sports' like skipping and bench ball.

The one good thing about the day, was with so many new people about, there was a lot of deducing to do. While there were children milling about, the pair had a lot of fun, though when the actual sports came, it wasn't as good.

Sherlock scowled, 'I hate running' as he dragged his feet towards the track. It was even worse because Sophie was doing basketball, so he didn't really have any friends. He sat down on the benches, sullenly waiting for his turn. He really didn't want to be there, so he carried on creating his mind palace.

Sherlock had read about mind palaces in a book a few weeks ago, and he was determined to make one. Not only were they good for helping you to remember things, you could also use them as a retreat, and Sherlock thought that having a mind palace would be very useful. He followed the instructions he had read, close you eyes, imagine the place you are in, and explore. If you go back to that same place enough in your mind, you'll be able to picture it easily and use it to store all sorts of information. Sherlock's mind palace was literally a palace, it had hundreds of rooms and corridors, some of which he hadn't explored or designed yet. In each room was something really amazing. He could open one door, and find Redbeard, waiting there, or visit the dungeons, where Sherlock's worst fears were locked away.

'Group 4, please find your places on the starting line' a loud voice called. Sherlock shook his head as he left his mind palace, and came back to reality, wishing he didn't have to.

Group 4 consisted of around 10 other boys. Most of them looked pretty average, though there were two that stood out. One boy was absolutely enormous, Sherlock could hardly believe that he was their age, though he knew of course that he was. The tall boy look angry and mean. Words such as 'bully', 'popular', 'athletic', 'strong' surrounded him. As he walked to the starting line, he pushed two other boys roughly out of the way. The other boy who stood out to Sherlock didn't look especially significant. He was short with black hair, perfectly in place, making him look quite sinister. He had what Sherlock assumed was a permanent scowl on his face. Sherlock didn't know why, but for some reason or another, Sherlock felt connected to this boy, not in a friendly way, in a way that told him, 'we are the same, yet we could not be more different'.

BANG. The race started, and the boys, well some of them, sped around the track. Others were significantly slower. Although Sherlock hated sports, he wasn't the worst at running, and was only third from the back, which was less embarrassing than being last he thought. The boy who was clearly going to win, was the huge on. Before Sherlock had even got halfway, he had finished, 'Carl Powers in first' the loud voice blared.

Eventually everyone finished the race, the sinister looking boy cam last. Carl went immediately over to him, 'How comes your so bad at sport, Jim?' he laughed. Jim didn't look at all amused, the scowl etched into his face grew deeper. Sherlock couldn't put his finger on it, but he knew he was like Jim, or had seen him before. Something about him was so familiar.


	7. Chapter 7

Sherlock was sitting on a low wall, when he first heard the sirens approaching St. Marks. At first he assumed they were just passing by, going somewhere else, but he was wrong. The sirens got louder and louder as the vehicle whizzed through the open school gates. Three men rushed out of the ambulance and sped towards the gym. Sherlock stiffened, trying to work out what was going on, he hoped Sophie was okay, she had been in the swimming pool next to the gym. A few more minutes passed, crowds of children and people walking past the gates gathered to see what was happening.

Sherlock saw Sophie, standing on the other side of the field, look very shocked and quite scared. He ran over to her, however much Sherlock Holmes hated running, he would definitely run to help Sophie.

'What happened?' he asked hurriedly when he reached he. She stood still, as if fear had paralysed her. Eventually, she opened her mouth, though no sound came out. 'Sophie! Are you ok?' Sherlock asked, he sounded truly worried now.

'It was horrible,' she said, barely audibly, 'He just, he just...started shaking, and then, then...he, he just..sort of sunk...down, and, and, I saw it' she looked faint and pale.

'Sophie,' Sherlock asked, 'Who sunk?'

'Carl Powers' she whispered. Sherlock was quiet for a while, then a smile lit up his face, 'Sophie, this is brilliant!' he said.

'What?' asked Sophie a lot louder than before, 'Sherlock, someone just died, I just saw someone die!'

'Yes,' explained Sherlock, 'and now we get to work out who killed him! Its not just pretend anymore! The game is real!' Sophie stared at him, slightly shocked.

'I don't think we should do that Sherlock, the police will do that.'

'Oh, what do the police know?' Sherlock asked, 'There's no time for the police, we have to do this. Start with telling me exactly what happened, what did you see Sophie?'

Sophie took a big breath, and despite her doubts of the plan, begun. 'Carl was just with some friends, they were swimming lengths of the pool, and suddenly, Carl just starts shaking all over, as if he's going to explode. He couldn't control his body, so he just began to sunk. At first, everyone thought he was just having a laugh, I mean, he looked really strong, so I just thought he was good at swimming. But then, his friends said he'd been down there for a while, they asked a teacher. She jumped in to try and pull him up, and she did, but he wasn't breathing, someone else called an ambulance while she breathed into his mouth. Another teacher was telling us all to leave the swimming pool, then I got changed back into my uniform. I think that's everything' Sophie screwed up her face trying to remember any small details.

'Okay' Sherlock nodded, 'and what happened before he started to sink? For instance, did he take a drink anyone gave him? Did anyone give him any sweets?'

'You think someone poisoned him?' Sophie gasped.

Sherlock rolled his eyes, 'Of course someone poisoned him, a huge guy like him, he wouldn't just sink and die. And he was a bully, he must have had enemies, did you see him being mean to anyone?'

Now it was Sophie's turn to roll her eyes, 'Sherlock, there's no way someone our age killed Carl Powers. We're 10, 10 year olds don't kill anyone, I mean, I did see him pushing a lot of people around, laughing at this creepy kid, but, no-one would kill him.'

'Hmm' Sherlock said, 'We need to go to the swimming pool for clues.'

'Sherlock,' Sophie whispered, 'this isn't going to work, we're not allowed to be here!'

'Don't be scared' said Sherlock. Sophie stopped, 'I'm not scared Sherlock'

'Yes you are' he said, 'Shut up' she replied, 'Anyways, I deduce that you're scared too' she said slightly proudly.

Sherlock smiled, 'Not as scared a you, shh, were by the locker room door, anyone could be inside.' He poked his head around the door, 'It's empty, lets go!'

The pair sneaked into the locker rooms, it looked completely normal, and walking in you would never have been able to tell someone had died less than half an hour ago, through the adjacent door.

'Which locker is Carl's?' Sherlock asked, Sophie shrugged in response.

'Don't ask me, this is a boys locker room,' she wrinkled her nose, 'And it stinks in here.' Sherlock looking at the name tags of each bag, until he found one which said 'Carl Powers' in big, messy writing. 'This is the one.' He said proudly to Sophie. Carefully, he zipped the bag open and rummaged through the clothes.

He frowned, 'It doesn't make sense,' he muttered, Sophie looked at him quizzically, 'He's got everything in here, eczema cream, his clothes, a water bottle, but no shoes.

'Maybe he put them on the floor' Sophie suggested.

'No,' murmured Sherlock, 'there are no shoes around here, and he would have put them in his bag, judging from how neatly everything is folded and organised.' Sherlock swept his eyes across the room again, his piercing gaze falling on Sophie for a second.

Sophie thought for a moment, 'If we find who took Carl's shoes, we'll find his killer! And it would have to be someone who could get in here without anyone noticing, so it is someone here!'

'Exactly!' cried Sherlock.

'Hey!' a voice from behind them shouted, 'what are you two doing here? You have to back to class.' Sherlock scowled, Sophie, who by now knew his scowl perfectly, did the same.

The next day, the newspapers read 'SCHOOL BOY DIES IN TRAGIC ACCIENDENT'.

'No!' shouted Sherlock, 'They've got it wrong someone killed Carl!' he said exasperatedly.

'Why on earth would someone want to kill a 10 year old boy?' Violet asked, amusement and sadness glistening in her eyes.

'I don't know,' said Sherlock stubbornly, 'But they did.'

'And just how do you know that?'

'His shoes, they weren't there. The killer took them.'

'Why would a murderer want Carl's shoes?'

'I don't know,' said Sherlock, 'but I'm going to work it out.


	8. Chapter 8

Over the next year, a few things changed, yet again, in the Holmes family. Mycroft was, as he had expected, employed at a secret government base. Of course, Mycroft was not as modest as Sherrinford had been about the ordeal, modesty had never been one of Mycroft's talents. Sherlock finished Primary School and stayed on to St. Marks Secondary School for Gifted Children, and to no-ones surprise, so had Sophie. Over the year, Sherlock and Sophie had become even closer, if that was possible. They were a lot older than they were than they met, six years older to be precise, though they both still loved detectives. Ever since the Carl Powers incident, Sherlock had gone off the idea of being a pirate, and turned all his attention to solving crimes, instead of committing them. The Carl Powers case was still one fresh in Sherlock's mind, although Sherlock and Sophie would go through the newspapers, solving countless cases the police couldn't crack, Sherlock could never work out who had killed Carl Powers, or why.

With Sherrinford and Mycroft working in the same research facility, they saw each other often, which neither of them were thrilled at. Sherrinford had never been sociable, even when he was a tiny toddler, he didn't want his mother to read to him, or play with other children, he was solitary, and happy. Mycroft was the same though in a different way, he regarded himself superior to everyone around him, thinking of himself as the only human living in a world of goldfish, so preferred to stay on his own over enduring people. Both Sherrinford and Mycroft were glad to be working in the base, they were both surrounded by intelligent people who thought and acted like them, though Sherrinford was worried all was not as it seemed.

While handing in research papers to the head of the base, John Smith (clearly a fake name), Sherrinford had noticed some files which he believed were a cause for concern, and as he thought, more and more things that weren't quite right seemed to dawn upon him. Occasionally, people would go missing, and he had always assumed they had quit or been fired, though none of them were ever seen again, some of the papers Sherrinford was asked to write, had nothing to do with their aim and, why on Earth was this base so secret, if all they were trying to do was help the public? After a long time of worrying, Sherrinford decided he should consult someone, but he couldn't just ask anyone, he would have to be very careful not to attract any attention. There was only one person he could think to tell.

'Brother, I have no idea why you're coming to me with such a petty matter, especially when you're clearly delusional. You know what we're doing here, isn't it why you joined? We're saving lives, brother.' Mycroft scorned his older brother. Sherrinford felt himself get angry, how could his allegedly 'smart' brother be so blind as to what was happening, centimetres away from his nose? Sherrinford was determined to expose the truth, because what this base was doing wasn't saving people, it was killing them. Sherrinford had joined believing they were doing stem cell research, trying to cure cancer and discover how to make life last longer, though he saw something which had proved to him it was all under false pretences.

The government base was known as CURE, and was so secret, only the people who worked there and government officials knew it existed. CURE, being as secret as it was, was deep underground, with many levels, most of which employees were not allowed to enter. Sherrinford had known, the only way to get the evidence he needed was to enter those levels, and if was going to try, he'd go as far as he could go, right to level 9. Sherrinford had asked Mycroft to come with him several times, each time he refused. Though what Sherrinford saw changed everything.

He didn't know what to do, for the first time in Sherrinford Holmes' life, he was caught completely by surprise. His head spun, he had to stop this. He had to. He felt dizzy, he needed to tell someone, anyone, what he'd seen, it needed to be stopped, now. He couldn't believe that this organisation he'd been working in for 3 years could be doing such an awful, horrible, inhumane, disgusting...thing. It couldn't be true. But it was, he'd seen it, it was real, and he needed to stop it.

'Mycroft,' Sherrinford ran up to him hurriedly, 'It's true, everything I said, I saw it, there doing terrible, terrible things, we have to, we have to-' Mycroft cut him off with a cruel laugh.

'I don't think I've ever seen you frightened before Sherrinford.' he said calmly.

'Mycroft!' Sherrinford's voice rose, 'Your not listening, down on level 9, there doing things, awful things, to living people!'

'Oh Sherrinford,' Mycroft laughed again, 'You've been working here all this time and you only just discovered this? I'm starting to doubt if you are the smart one in this family, and it's definitely not Sherlock, so that only leaves...me.'

'What are you talking about?' Sherrinford said in desperation.

'How could you have been working here for 3 years and not notice anything around you? I realised something was wrong in my second week, though I thought, why go against it, when I can use it to place myself higher into power? And that's why I am sorry, brother, but this truly is the only way. You can't imagine how far I'll be promoted, for turning in my own brother.'

As Mycroft's words faded away, a roaring cry of voices came, as five men, dressed in black, approached Sherrinford, and dragged him away.

'How can you do this?' he yelled in anger towards Mycroft Holmes, 'I'm you brother!' But Mycroft stood there, emotionless, leaning on his umbrella.


	9. Chapter 9

_Quick Note:_

_I got a lot of controversial opinions on my last chapter, which is good and I didn't expect anything different. Just wanted to mention that I also don't see Mycroft as evil, but he did need to do something awful, why else would he say 'I don't have outbursts of brotherly love, don't you remember what happened to the last one?' in His Last Vow, also, this ties into why him and Sherlock are 'arch-enemies' instead of loving brothers. I'm really sorry if you didn't like it! Hopefully Mycroft will be able to prove to you he does care about his family in the next few chapters. Thank you all so much for reading it brings me so much joy to see people enjoying my writing, and I'm sorry again if you disagreed with the last chapter. Thank you for reading, I'm so grateful! kathybrownie xx_

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'I don't like this game' Sherlock scowled, he did in fact like the game, he just didn't like loosing.

'Lets just play one more time' begged Sophie, she liked winning as much as he did and didn't get the pleasure quite as often. For some reason or another, Sherlock was terrible at monopoly, give him cluedo and he would work it out instantly, verse him in scrabble and he would make incredibly complex words for a boy of 11, but play monopoly, Sophie would win every time. Sherlock thought this was because a game of luck, rather than intelligence, though Sophie knew it was a game about planning ahead, and tactics instead of playing in the moment.

By now it was almost the middle of winter, snow was falling softly outside the Holmes cottage, and icy mist crept up every window. Christmas would soon be here and Sherlock was excited to spend it with his two Brothers, who he hadn't seen in what felt like a life time. Funnily enough, Sherlock was even starting to miss Mycroft, he realised once they were gone, that Sherlock liked having older brothers. Sophie was an only child, and secretly thought of Sherlock as a brother, though saying that would sound silly, and you had to be smart around Sherlock Holmes.

Sophie Richards had changes Sherlock in almost as many ways as she had changed him. From the lonely child in the playground, she had grown to a girl who was aware of everything around, and stood up for what she thought was right. Sherlock was no longer as clinical as he was, Sophie had given him morals and patience, and helped him to notice the little things around him. The pair were meant to be best friends.

Sherlock had never believed in Santa Clause, or the Tooth Fairy, or the Easter Bunny, but when the morning of December the 25th finally arrived, he woke up at the crack of dawn and raced down the stairs. His brothers had arrived late last night, too late for Sherlock to wait up, he was so excited to see them, he ran into the kitchen and...

Only one brother was sitting at the table, drinking a cup of tea as he read the newspaper.

'Where's Sherrinford?' asked Sherlock sadly.

Mycroft looked at him with a pitiful smile, 'He couldn't make it,' he said quietly.

'No, Sherrinford wouldn't do that, I've been talking to him for months, and we never talk, but I wanted to see him so badly, I haven't seen him in four years! It's not fair! He wouldn't just not come! What happened to him, Mycroft?' Sherlock raised his voice to a shout, angrily wiping away a tear he didn't know was there.

Mycroft shrugged his shoulders sadly, 'I don't know, Sherlock, he just didn't come.'

Sherlock didn't know what, but he could sense something which told him his brother was lying. Sherrinford didn't just choose not to come, he may not have spent much time with his little brother, but when he promised something, he always kept it.

'That's not true Mycroft, and I'm going to find out what is. Me and Sophie will find out just what happened, we're going to be great detectives when we grow up, so this case is easy.' Sherlock turned and left the kitchen, angry at himself for acting like a baby, and Mycroft for not telling him the truth. Had Mycroft done something? What was so bad that he wouldn't let Sherlock know?

He quickly called Sophie and let her know what had happened. Just as Sherlock knew she would, she agreed that something wasn't quite right, so they made a plan.

'Sophie, you have to be quiet! Mycroft will be here soon!' Sherlock hissed from under the other blanket.

'I know, but its so un-comfy over here,' Sophie complained, 'Why do we have to stay in some car boot?'

Sherlock rolled his eyes, though he knew Sophie couldn't see him doing so in the pitch black of Mycroft's boot. She had already explained the plan, and knew she could remember it, but Sophie didn't like the dark, and he knew she just wanted to get out as quickly as possible. But, the plan meant they were in for a long, uncomfortable ride, especially seeing as they had no idea where they were going, or how long it would take.

Sherlock and Sophie were going to CURE, to find out what happened there, and more importantly, what happened to Sherrinford.


	10. Chapter 10

The car travelled on and on, under the blanket, Sherlock and Sophie had no idea where they were, or how long they'd been travelling. It was so stuffy and they had to crouch down in complete silence as to not be seen by Mycroft, in the drivers seat. Though, when the car finally did drive to a halt, getting in was a lot easier than they had expected. When they were entirely sure Mycroft had left, Sherlock peaked through the boot window, they were in a grimy looking car park that was completely deserted. The two children scrambled out through the back seat door, trying to get into the building quickly and unseen.

The hard part about Sherlock and Sophie's plan, is that they had no idea what they were looking for, or what to do when they found it. They did have supplies though, everything they could possible think they could need was stuffed into a small rucksack Sherlock wore on his back. Sophie tied her hair back as they walked towards the only door, Sherlock adjusted his blue scarf, scared yet strangely excited for what they were about to embark on. Sherlock was smart, though Sophie had always been sensible, and was terrified of what could happen if thy were found.

Leaving the dingy car park, they entered a white corridor, white walls, white floors, white everything. It was as if the entire place was made a plastic. They walked hurriedly along, Sherlock couldn't tell if there were any security guards or cameras, but knew that looking for them would seem suspicious. Towards the end of the corridor were two unlabelled doors.

'What should we do?' asked Sophie, sounding positively petrified. Sherlock's eyes searched from door to door, hoping he would be able to make any sort of deduction, but they were both exactly the same.

'I don't know.' He said slowly, 'I think we may have to split up.' Sophie turned to him with a look of pure panic on her face, this hadn't been part of the plan, and she wasn't sure she would be able to do it. Sophie shook her head, trying to chase away her fears, she was brave, a pirate, a detective, she was on a mission to save lives, she could be strong.

'I'll take the right, you take the left, call me on your walky-talky if you find anything, and I'll get there as soon as I can. Use the black pen to draw your route on the wall, so you can get out if you have to, and I'll do the same. If something really bad happens, don't come to look for me, go straight to the car and I'll meet you there.' Sherlock went over all the points he could think of, he didn't want them to split up either, but he needed to know what was happening here, and this was the only way. 'If you don't find anything after 2 hours, go back to the car, if iI'm not there within the next hour, run.'

They looked at each other, Sherlock hugged her tightly, she hugged him back even harder, before they both turned, and stepped through their doors.

Sherlock walked in confident strides, though inside he felt small and scared, he wasn't going to let that show. Unlike the Carl Powers case, he would solve this one, because if he didn't, something awful could happen to Sherrinford, if it hadn't already.

Sherlock reached an elevator, inside was also white and plastic-like, with small round buttons labelled 1 to 9. Next to each number was the levels name. 9 was called 'authorisation only', Sherlock decided that was where he had to go.

The elevator whizzed as he pressed the button and he went down, down, down. He could feel the air growing dank and thick. Although it was clear that they had tried to ventilate this area, it was too fat down. It was also clear that no-one went to level 9, either that or those who came, never left.

Sophie walked past doors and doors, she could see into each room, though it appeared to be a one way mirror on each one, as no-one acknowledged her. The people in each room seemed to be working, though on what it wasn't entirely clear. This hallway, like the last was perfectly white, and almost glowed as if it would hurt her eyes if she looked for too walked down the corridor, scraping the black marker along the wall with her, the corridor twisted and turned, though there was never an option of paths, only one, which seemed to go on for ever. After a long time, Sophie wondered if this was even possible, she swore she had seen these offices before, but she couldn't have, she was following the corridor, and hadn't turned back. She walked, then she walked, she had no idea what to do. Was this even possible? She looked at her watch, it said it had been an hour. She had walked down this corridor for an hour, and gotten no-where. Sophie looked around, trying to figure out where she was, or what had happened. None of this made any sense, where was she?

Scared, she pulled out her walky-talky, saying, 'Sherlock? Where are you? I'm lost! I need help.' A distant buzz was her only response. She decided this was pointless, she turned around to head back to the door, though as she turned, she realised the door was right behind her.

'What?' she said aloud in disbelief. She didn't know what was happening, what was this place? What was it doing to her head? She looked at the wall, where the black marker was still in her hand, pressing firmly against the wall. There wasn't one line there though, there was many, too many to possibly count.

As the elevator slowed to a halt and open, Sherlock stepped out into level 9. Unlike the gleaming white floors and walls Sherlock had seen before, this one was concrete and old. He hear screams, screams so loud and full of pain that Sherlock didn't think he had ever heard a sound more horrifying. Sherlock couldn't tell if the urge to go towards the noise, or keep away from it was the one he should follow, but curiosity got the better of him, as he slowly began to walk to the room.


	11. Chapter 11

As Sherlock walked down the corridor, the noise got louder and louder, until he knew it couldn't possibly be a noise that any human could possibly make, any normal human that was, though what else could it be? His heart was racing, his palms sweating, his legs shaking. Fear took a hold of Sherlock, and he couldn't move. Sherlock had never experienced a fear so real, so tangible he could physically feel it rise in his throat and couldn't swallow it down. He had to keep going, he was so close now, but it was so hard.

Sophie woke up in a small, white room. She was lying on the floor but got up quickly. The last thing she could remember was walking, on and on, getting nowhere. How did she get here, where was here? She banged against the walls, but could find no door, she breathed heavily, all her supplies were gone, she was all alone. She screamed, punched against the walls, shouted for Sherlock, until her fists were bleeding and her voice raw. Then, she finally collapsed, crying, completely helpless.

Sherlock pushed forward, one of the hardest things he had ever done was find the strength to push open that door, though the moment he had, Sherlock wished he had never even got into Mycroft's car. The room was large and circular, around every wall was cage-like rooms made of transparent glass, with people inside. Except, they weren't people, though Sherlock had no idea what else they could possibly have been. They were human-like, or at least seemed to have been once, but they'd all been changed, with extra parts, or bigger, or smaller. None of them were quite right at all, they all seemed to be in horrific pain, each of them making a ghastly sound, though none as large as the thing in the centre. In the centre was a surgical operating table with a live patient on it, with three people in white uniforms operating. The man on the operating table had no arms, or legs, only stumps, flailing. Sherlock gasped, as the man looked up at him, his eyes screamed 'help me', but he didn't appear to be able to make any noise besides from a blood-curdling cry. As the uniformed men turned and saw Sherlock, he caught a glimpse of what they were doing to the man, that had caused him to make such an inhumane noise. Pinned back was his skin, and his living organs were being poked at, as if they were investigating him. Sherlock saw his pulsing heart, his intestines, his liver. Sherlock's head spun, he was too terrified to scream, then the world was tumbling, tumbling, downwards, downwards, until Sherlock couldn't pull himself back.

He woke up in a small, white room, alone and afraid. There was no door, only plastics walls. He curled up into a ball, and waited. He didn't know what for, but he also didn't know what to do. Did Mycroft know what was happening? He couldn't, or at least not all of it, though knowing Mycroft, he probably didn't think to see if he knew everything, he always assumed he did. Would Mycroft come to same him? Would Sophie? Would anyone? Would Sherlock simply die here? Sherlock stayed curled in the tight ball on the hard, plastic floor, until eventually, he drifted into a fitful sleep, haunted with nightmares of limbless men, organs exposed.

When Sherlock woke for a second time, he was in a room with Sophie, who had clearly been crying, a lot.

'I've been trying to wake you for ages, I was so scared Sherlock.' she said. Despite his own fear, Sherlock felt a deep anger pulse through him, how dare they scare Sophie? How dare they?

'It's okay Sophie, we're going to be just fine, we'll get out.' Sherlock said reassuringly as he hugged her, with all him might, though inside Sherlock could tell nothing would ever be 'just fine' ever again.


	12. Chapter 12

Suddenly, the wall in front of Sophie and Sherlock began to slide open, making a gentle whirring noise. Sophie braced herself, she had been scared for long enough and needed to at least seem brave. Sherlock stood up, ready for what was about to come. The moment seemed to last an eternity.

Mycroft walked in, his umbrella in hand. Instead of the smug, pretentious look he usually wore when around his brother, his face was white and he looked truly terrified. Sherlock didn't know if he should have hit him or hugged him, though the look on Mycroft's face stopped him from moving at all.

'Sherlock, what have you done?' he whispered, as the wall began to slide closed behind him.

'Are you locked here too now?' Sherlock asked worriedly, if that was so, they had no hope of ever leaving.

Mycroft shook his head, and swallowed, 'I was told to come find out why you were here, then...send in the men to take you both away, but I can't do that. Not again.'

Sherlock took a step forward, his fists clenched, 'What do you mean again?' he asked with pain and hatred rooted deep within his words.

Mycroft swallowed again, and looked as if he was about to start crying, Sherlock had never seen his brother this way.

'I had to,' Mycroft said, with more pain in his voice than Sherlock's, 'They were going to take him down there if I didn't. It was either turn him in and watch him rot, or, let him discover the hideous truth, and become one of them.' Mycroft swallowed for a third time, 'I can't do it again,' he whispered, 'Not again.'

Sherlock stared, open mouthed at his brother, though did not walk towards him. He could hardly believe what his brother was saying. Sophie was still sitting on the floor confused, become one of what? What had happened to her in that corridor?

'What's going to happen to us then, Mycroft?' Sophie asked barely audibly. Mycroft didn't look at her, just stared down on the floor. 'And what's happening here?' asked Sherlock, more fearful than angry now.

'Human experiments, they're trying to cure all sorts of diseases and such, they justify the things down there, saying it all for the greater good and one day the World will be thanking them, but they're kidding themselves, they'll be discovered and imprisoned for the monsters they are. The only way I can stop any of this is reaching the top and shutting the whole thing down, then I'll be able to free Sherrinford and everyone else, but no-one can know that what I'm doing.' Mycroft looked at the children in desperation, 'and this is something else I must do Sherlock, which I sincerely hope you will one day understand and forgive.' For the first time after entering the room, Mycroft glanced at Sophie, guiltily, before turning and knocking on the wall three times.

'What are you going to do?' Sherlock shouted, as the door began to whirr.

'What I have to, so I won't have to give you up too.' Mycroft slipped through the gap between the walls, then they closed behind him.

Sophie burst into tears, Sherlock rushed over to her, 'It's going to be okay, Mycroft said he's going to get us out.' Sophie shook her head through her tears, and laughed bitterly.

'How can you think that?' she cried, 'You're the one who taught me to deduce! He said he was going to save you, he said he wasn't going to give you up, didn't you see the way he looked at me? How he asked for forgiveness?'

Sherlock's face turned white, 'No' he whispered, 'He's going to get us both out, I promised you I'd look after you, and I'm going to. You'll get out of here, I swear. And if you don't I'll look over the whole world to find you. I will never ever stop looking Sophie, but we don't have to worry about that, because Mycroft will save both of us.'

The wall began to whirr as it opened again, Sherlock stood up and helped Sophie to her feet, wiping away her tears, despite the fact he felt that he would start to cry any second. Four men in black uniforms came in, two took Sophie, the other two grabbed Sherlock. Sherlock tried to fight, though it as pointless.

Carrying the children, the men walked down the corridor, until the corridor forked, and they were taken separate ways.

'No', Sherlock shouted, 'What are you doing? We have to stay together!' We have to stay together! I promised her! Turn around! We have to stay together!'

Sherlock heard a scream, which was unmistakably Sophie, 'Sherlock!' he heard her cry, and then, there was complete and utter silence.


	13. Chapter 13

Sherlock was taken to Mycroft's car, and locked inside, then the man left. Sherlock banged on the windows, in complete desperation, tears running down his face. Mycroft arrived shortly after and got into the front seat. He didn't even turn to look at Sherlock, he couldn't.

'Mycroft, where is she?' Sherlock sobbed, he didn't answer for a long time.

'I had to do it Sherlock, I just had to, you have no idea how sorry I am.'

'No,' said Sherlock, his teeth gritted, 'You have no idea how sorry you'll be.'

When Sherlock got back, for the next month he wouldn't talk, and barely ate. He spent most of the time alone in his room with Redbeard. School started early in February, Sherlock's birthday had come and gone, he refused to leave his room and wouldn't open any presents. Sherlock wouldn't leave the house to attend school, and thought he wouldn't tell anyone, he was still haunted with dreams of open, limbless mean, and Sophie's petrified screams.

In the summer, Redbeard became sick. For weeks he would whimper, hardly moving at all. Sherlock left the house for the first time to go to the vets with his parents to see how to make Redbeard better. But, there was no way to make that dog better. Redbeard was put down that week.

Sherlock had changed so much by the time he reached christmas again. His oldest brother, best and only friend, and dog, were all gone, or dead. Sherlock's childhood had died too, all his compassion and love was gone, from the ashes of his former self rose an empty man. Nothing could fill that emptiness, he was so alone, and felt so guilty. He had left Sophie there, but he didn't know where there was, and although he tried, he could never find her.

At aged only 13, Sherlock picked up the habit of smoking, though of course his parents didn't know that. By 14, that was no longer enough and after trying any soft drugs he could find, Sherlock found cocaine.

Without emotion, the world seemed so empty and pointless, Sherlock could no longer find joy in anything, all he could feel was guilt and pain. The drugs helped with that, and stimulated his brain, helping him to find and solves cases, which took his mind of Sophie, at least for a while.

No love or compassion did help Sherlock be a better detective, because he simply didn't care about the means at which he got results, as long as he got them. Using people as bait, a few dying, killing people. None of that mattered as long as he was working towards the greater good.

Sherlock scared himself with what he was capable of, and reminded himself of the 9th floor, they too were doing what they did for 'the greater good'.

Sophie waited for Sherlock to save her everyday, and every single day she was betrayed. At first she though he was just trying to find her, even she didn't know where she was, how on Earth would he?

A year passed, then two. Sophie stopped waiting on Sherlock, and began to blame him. She was stuck here, whatever, wherever she was. There were no other children her, she was locked in a white plastic room. She was given school worksheets to do everyday, and was brought meals on trays three times a day.

At aged 15, there was still no sign Sophie would ever leave. By then, she had been allowed out of her room for meals and activities, she discovered there were other people there, including Sherrinford. However much there was to do, the place was still a prison, one Sophie was sure wasn't legally allowed to exist.

Sophie was no longer a loving little girl, she was smart, untrusting and full of pain. Although she tried desperately to hate Sherlock, and she did, she could never loathe him. She was her best friend, at least, had been.

6 years went by, Sophie didn't know how much more she could take. 7 years gone, would she ever leave? 8, 9, 10. Then, everything changed.

Sophie was 21 years old, and beautiful. She had full red lips, the lack of natural sunlight inside her white room had turned her skin paler and her hair darker, falling in soft curls down her shoulders.

A man was admitted in Sophie's tenth year of imprisonment, he was strangely sinister, and Sophie could swear she knew him from her life before this place. He noticed her to, she was sitting and read, he approached her smiling. Sophie didn't trust that smile at all.

'What do you want?' Sophie asked, she had learned to grow suspicious of everyone around her.

'I just want to help you,' he said, 'My name is Jim Moriarty, and I'm going to help you get out, if you agree to help me in return.'


	14. Chapter 14

Sophie stared at the man standing lazily before untrustingly. When your best friend leaves you abandoned for ten years, you don't trust men you just meet.

'You can't get me out, you're in here too.' She said.

The man smirked, 'Only because I want to be here.'

'Why in hell would you want to be here?' Sophie said questioningly.

'Because I want to get you out, then you'll help me. I've been interested in you and your relationship with Sherlock Holmes for quite a while.' Sophie looked at him confused, who was he? How did he know about Sherlock? How could she help him?

'Sherlock and I have a lot in similar, and Sherlock is similar to you, meaning we can help each other.' Moriarty said, hands in his pockets. Despite the fact he was wearing a blue hospital-like uniform, like everyone else here, he seemed somehow superior and powerful.

'I want to get you out, and help me to destroy Sherlock Holmes.'

'Why do you want to destroy Sherlock?' Sophie asked, wary but not completely dismissing the idea.

Moriarty shrugged in response, 'I get bored.' Sophie looked at him, Moriarty did remind her of Sherlock in some way, but where he was surrounded in joy, Moriarty was filled with vicious hate. Sophie considered it, Sherlock hadn't done much for her in a long time, but this man was offering to get her out, and she'd be able to get her revenge, but did she really want revenge? What she wanted was Sherlock, his friendship, their happiness.

'You should decide quickly, the plan starts in-' The man glanced at his watch then stared into Sophie's eyes, 'two minutes.'

Sophie panicked internally, what should she do? Thought, options, scenarios raced through her mind. Then, after what felt like a lifetime, Sophie said, 'Okay.'

Moriarty smirked; he knew exactly what she was going to say.

'But quickly, how do you know Sherlock and I?'

'Your first case.' Sophie looked in surprised at Moriarty, 'I killed Carl Powers, put something in his eczema cream, that's why I tookhis shoes, I was just taking them when the pair of you walked in, I hid in the shower and heard you both. I was amazed at this boy, he was smart, too smart.'

Sophie was staring at him in utter shock, 'You were ten years old!' Moriarty looked smugly, as if he was proud of himself.

'Why did you kill a ten year old boy?' Sophie was afraid of this man now.

Moriarty's face darkened, 'He laughed at me, I stopped him from laughing. We have to go, unless you want to stay here for the rest of your life.'

Sophie stood up hurriedly, 'I'm ready.' She said, despite her fear for this man, she needed to get out of here, before she went completely mad.

'Nothing to collect?' Moriarty asked, Sophie shook her head, she had just been taken here one day, no warning, no time to pack. One of the things she always wondered was what had happened to her parent? Were they told their eleven year old was a terrorist? Were they alive? Did they look for her? Were they still looking for her? Despite how Sophie had grown, inside she still felt like the scared little girl who Sherlock had held in his arms. Even now, Sophie had no idea what had happened to her in that corridor, and knew even less about what was happening on floor 9. The two gave nightmares, almost every night.

Moriarty shrugged, 'Fine, that just means a lighter journey.'

Moriarty and Sophie's escape was simple, Moriarty went up to a specific guard, said they were leaving, and they were escorted to a car with a driver sitting in the front seat. Moriarty had obviously planned the whole thing, paid off the guard and all, he obviously really did want to be there, just to get Sophie out.

After a long car journey, of almost complete uncomfortable silence, they stopped. Sophie stepped out, still wearing her hospital-like gown, to see a rundown factory. Moriarty headed towards it, she followed. There was no point running, she had no-where to go, and didn't even know where she was. The inside of the factory was nowhere near as derelict as the front. It seemed to have been refurbished or designed, with a large central room with a table for twelve, and at the other end was an enormous flat screen, that seemed to double as a television and computer. Why anyone would need such a computer, Sophie had no idea. Surrounding the large room was many doors all the way down, there were stairs to a balcony where there were yet more doors, all long the walls. The place reminded Sophie of prison, filled with cells, she felt inside her that she was the prisoner, and would have been better of staying where she was.


	15. Chapter 15

Sophie was quickly escorted to a room, on the balcony not too far from the stairs, she could still see the enormous computer from the angle she was at, and looked down on the huge table. The door open, and she stepped in surprised. Sophie had expected a cell, not unlike the one she had been living in for teen years, but what she had gotten was incredible.

The floor was covered in a thick, cream carpet, the walls were white apart from the one opposite her, which was covered in a black tree wall paper. In the centre of the room against the freshly wallpapered wall was a large double bed covered in thick duvets and large. On the left hand wall was a door leading through to another room, the door was open and inside she could see a sparkling bathroom with a bath bigger than any she had ever seen. It looked as if the entire place had been designed for her, though, despite the places beauty, it wasn't welcoming, it was a threat. The room reminded her of her promise to Moriarty, to destroy Sherlock.

Sophie still had no idea how she could possibly do that, as well as logistically, Sophie didn't know if she could ever bring herself to hurt Sherlock Holmes, despite what he had done to her. She knew he wouldn't have left her unless he had to. Sophie started to regret agreeing to any of this, there was no way it could end well. Despite the beauty of this place, it felt like even more of a prison than the last one, because not only was she trapped, but she owed Moriarty. She had to help him, or escape. Though, simply looking around was enough for Sophie to know that was never going to happen. Man in black shirts and trousers stood everywhere, like guards or agents, they were in the middle of nowhere, and Sophie didn't even know where nowhere was. The world had changed in the ten years Sophie had been locked away and everything seemed so complicated and confusing. Even if she did manage to leave, she wouldn't understand the world, and no-one would believe the stories of where she had been.

Sophie walked further into her room. There was a large cupboard to her right, opening it Sophie found all sorts of clothes in different styles, colours and accessories, all in her size. Despite Sophie's lack of knowledge about who Moriarty was, other than a raging psychopath, he seemed to know an awful lot about her. Sophie picked out a light green dress with small birds on it. After ten years in the same blue uniform, Sophie couldn't wait to wear something new. She took the dress along with a pair of pants, tights and green kitten heels into 'her' bathroom.

The bathroom was bigger than she had seen. There was a large bath, a shower and a huge mirror that covered the a whole wall. There was a pile of towels on top of the toilet and surrounding the bathtub were at least twenty different products for hair and skin. There was another shelf on the wall covered in makeup, though Sophie doubted she would even try to use any of it.

Sophie dumped her chosen clothes on the floor and turned the bath handles, the water started to flow. Sophie looked around feeling completely overwhelmed, she crotched down on the white tiled floors and put her head in her hands. She couldn't tell if she should laugh or cry. She wasn't trapped any more, but she didn't know if she would ever be free again. Eventually she got up, there was no use feeling sorry for herself, she thought. Sophie tied her hair into a messy bun before shedding her blue uniform and stepping gingerly into the steaming water.

Sophie didn't know how long she was in her bath, but by the time she decided she should get out, the water had turned cold and her skin was crinkled. Stepping out she died her body with a thick white towel and put on her new clothes. Despite her wariness of Jim's hospitality, Sophie was pleased with all she had been given. She untied her bun and shook her head, her curls tumbled down past her shoulders. In her new clothes, Sophie felt confident and comfortable. For the first time in Sophie's life, she felt like a woman. She didn't feel like a silly girl, she felt like a strong woman, who could look after herself. Sophie felt powerful this way, and never wanted to feel weak again. She wanted to keep this confidence, this power, over her decisions, her life.

Though, whatever Sophie wore, she didn't have control over the situation she was in. She was trapped by Moriarty. It didn't take long before he came into see her, she was lying on her huge bed, when she heard a polite knock on the door. She sat up quickly and smoothed down her dress, rearranged her hair. Sophie didn't know why she wanted to look nice, but she did, mainly for herself though, for the strength it gave her. Sophie had locked her door from the inside, so walked over to open it.

Moriarty was standing outside, looking bored, he walked in past Sophie casually. When he reached the centre of the room, he turned, almost spun, around to face her. In his outreached hand he held a brown folder.

'What is it?' Sophie asked.

'It's you,' said Moriarty, 'well, the new you. The you who is going to help me. This is your new identity.' Sophie took the folder, and clutched it to her chest.

'Do I need to learn it all?' Moriarty shrugged, 'Not all, just the things like you name.' he replied.

'And what is my name?' she asked. He looked straight into her eyes and walked towards her. He looked interested, yet bored by her. He tapped the folder with his index finger before strolling out the door.

Sophie locked the door behind Moriarty and sat on her bed. She didn't want to open the folder, it would mean throwing away her whole life, but she didn't have much of a choice. She opened it slowly on to the first page. It was full of information, her birthday, her family, her name. Her new name had a strange ring to it, she like it yet loathed that it would always remind her of Moriarty. Her new name, was Irene Adler.


	16. Chapter 16

Sherlock ran the doorbell of the house 221b, hoping he had come to the right place. Since running away from home at only 16, Sherlock had found living hard and constantly moved around, though he felt like Baker Street was somewhere he could stay for a while.

All Sherlock had was his clothes and an overly large coat that stored his money, he hadn't taken much, because he knew he would get more, somehow, he always did. Sherlock hadn't wanted to leave his family the way he did four years ago, but after they discovered his drug addiction, he couldn't have stayed, there were too many tears from his mother, pleads from his father, just too many emotions for Sherlock Holmes.

Since leaving his family, Sherlock hadn't contacted them at all, he knew Mycroft was trying to find him, and every now and then he would get close, though never close enough. Mycroft would talk to the people Sherlock stayed with, trying to get information, though it was unlikely any of them would ever give any, seeing as drug dens weren't usually full of snitches.

After a moment, a woman opened the door, she looked around forty five and was pretty, despite her age, On her right eye was a large bruise. Turning to see Sherlock, she didn't look surprised or annoyed, only tired and disappointed.

'You one of Frank's?' she asked, though it was clear she could already tell. Sherlock nodded his head, and she opened the door to let him in. 'Your lot are all upstairs, me and Frank live down here, please don't disturb us, it makes him angry. Just go straight up, I'm sure they'll find room for you.'

Sherlock was surprised at this woman, who he assumed was Frank Hudson's wife, from the obvious abuse, he couldn't believe that she simply didn't care that her husband ran a drug cartel, and the upper floor to her house was inhabited by a group of junkies. Perhaps she wasn't allowed to care, or simply didn't have a say. The abuse that Mrs. Hudson was clearly facing made Sherlock angry, people hurting others always did. He wanted to help her, but just didn't have the energy, and couldn't risk loosing his place in the house.

The ground floor of 221b was quite ordinary, with wallpaper and a soft carpet, there were even some pictures on the walls, though the next floor was a different story. Sherlock walked in to see walls covered in graffiti. There were stained, dirty mattresses covering almost every inch of the floor and a strange smell, which Sherlock wasn't unfamiliar with, haunting the place. All the blinds were shut and no light was in the room apart from a small yellow lamp in one corner, which cast threatening shadows. Men, and possibly a few woman, lay all around, high on whatever they got their kicks from. Looking around, Sherlock felt disgusted, not just for the state of the place, but because he was one of these poor people.

'What you doing 'ere?' asked a man leaning against the peeling wall suspiciously.

'I was told to come here, Dug sent me.' Sherlock said, he was used to the questions he received before being allowed to actually get a bed, it happened in almost every place, unless everyone was high, then they were more than welcoming.

The man sniffed and stood up straight, 'Alright, but don't you cause no trouble.' Sherlock sighed and rolled his eyes, the man's grammar was terrible, but Sherlock couldn't be bothered to teach him to speak just then, perhaps after he had gotten some sleep.

Although Sherlock's body constantly screamed that it needed rest, his mind would never shut up long enough to let him, it was always, thinking, deducing, imagining. And when he did manage to sleep, his brain would still fill him with dreams, and not usually pleasant ones.


	17. Chapter 17

The next morning Sherlock was woken from a restless sleep by the sounds of angry yelling and frightened whimpers. He looked around, no-one else seemed to notice or hear the noises. Each person acted as if nothing was happening, perhaps they didn't want to get involved in whatever was going on below them, or plainly just didn't care.

'Don't worry 'bout no 'o that,' said the man who had questioned Sherlock last night, who he had later learnt was named Jay, 'That goes on all the time.'

Sherlock looked at him in surprise, 'If it happens all the time, don't you think we should worry about it?' he asked. Sherlock could hardly believe this man's blatant disregard for the clear abuse which was happening right in front of his eyes.

Jay shrugged, the other crack-heads and assorted junkies still lay passed out or huddled close together, 'It's not really my problem, anyways, this is a nice enough place, Frank's a good enough fella, I wanna just keep out of trouble 'spose. His lady could just leave if she waned't'

Sherlock stared at him in disgust, but considered what he had said. 221B was the nicest den he'd ever been to, why waste an opportunity like this? Although, it was only right to help someone, after all the people he had hurt. Sherlock turned towards the wall and curled up into a tight ball, trying to drown out the helpless cries he could hear from the ground floor. After all this time, those cries reminded him of how Sophie had screamed, screamed for him, screamed for help, as they took her away, forever. He pulled him enormous coat over him and closed him eyes, but his brain whirred on and he couldn't possibly get any more rest, or ignore what was happening. He sat up abruptly, then lay back down. Sherlock couldn't decide what was for the best. Should he help her? He hardly knew her, what was in it for him? Trying to help would just end in failure and possibly a lot of pain on his part, considering what he already knew of Frank Hudson.

'How often does this happen?' Sherlock asked Jay, still facing the wall, eyes closed.

'How often does what 'appen?' asked Jay.

'The noises,' Sherlock said, twisting his hand as he tried to explain, 'Whatever is happening down there.'

'Ah' said Jay. 'You mean 'ow often does 'e beat up 'is wife.' Sherlock turned to face Jay now, whos head was titled slightly as he though, 'Quite a lot, but Frank's usually away, 'e has this 'hole drug cartel thing goin' on in Florida, so 'es there a lot. She does love him though, she 'ates 'im, but she loves 'im too. And 'es a good guy really, despite all that anger stuff, 'es just, I dunno reeally, just.. Frank. 'E lets us all stay 'ere for cheap enough, and doesn't even put prices too high for whatever you got a kick for. What's your story anyways? You barely look like you're 'outa your teens, why you 'eld up 'ere?' Jay asked, he seemed genuinely curious, people in drug dens didn't usually just make polite conversation.

'I don't make a habit of sharing my story with strangers.' Sherlock said tonelessly as he turned to the wall again.

Jay shifted his shoulders, 'You don't 'ave to be like that,' he said, 'Anyways, I'm no stranger, I'm your flatmate.' As Jay grinned widely, you could see all his missing teeth, the ones that still remained in his mouth were yellow and crooked. Jay's hair was matted and unkept, much like the rest of him. Sherlock could tell he had been wearing the same clothes for at least the last week, so Sherlock had been doing the same so he could hardly make a comment. His shoes were well worn and most likely his only pair. Sherlock felt sorry for him, though he supposed he himself was no better off. Ever since he had run from his home, he had owned little to nothing. Every now and then he would earn a little as a drug mule, though he quickly spent it. Despite all this, Sherlock didn't feel miserable, he felt angry, constantly, angry. Sherlock felt nothing but anger, at the world for being the way it was, at Mycroft for letting Sophie be taken, at his parents for not noticing his despair, but most importantly himself, for letting him become such scum. A lowlife junkie. A crack-head. A nobody. He had wanted to solve crimes, help people, but now he just didn't care, and he couldn't even help himself.

The people lying around Sherlock didn't stur, though he was hardly surprised, considering that fact he was in a drug den. Thee shouting and screaming from below finally subsided, and was followed by a loud slam of a door, then silence.

Sherlock finally decided after much internal debate to go see what had happened. He stood up and brushed the dirt from his clothes, then walked out the door of the apartment, while the conscious people around him watched confused and surprised.

As Sherlock walked down the stairs he heard a sniffling coming from the ground floor apartment that suddenly stopped as his shoes were heard walking down the staircase. He got to the door and knocked three times. No-one answered, he didn't hear a sound.

'Mrs Hudson, are you alright in here?' Sherlock called loudly.

He didn't hear anything for a minute, then a timid voice called, 'Y..yes, I.I'm just fine. Quite al...right thank you.' The voice swallowed and tried to muffle a small sob.

'I'm going to come in, if that's alright.' Sherlock said, as he opened the door, not giving her a chance to answer if that would be alright, he knew she would say it wasn't. Walking in to the Hudson's house, you would never have known all the secrets the walls held. It was just like any ordinary house, there was a table in the kitchen, floors in the corner, pictures on the walls. It seemed completely ordinary.

Sherlock walked into the bathroom, to find Mrs. Hudson trying to wash her face as she leaned heavily against the side of the sink. Her face was covered in blood, and there were several open cuts on her lips, which were swollen, eyebrows, and a scrape from a ring of her cheek. Her arms were bruised and she seemed crumpled.

Mrs. Hudson still looked into the mirror, though her eyes caught Sherlock's, who was standing in the doorway, through the glass. On her face was the most desperate, terrified and alone look ever. It was the exact look he had seen on Sophie's face as she was carried away from him.

'You shouldn't be in here.' she said uncertainly, she was scared, though not of him, 'Who are you anyway?' she sniffed.

'I'm Sherlock, you let me in last night.' he said, as kindly as his voice would allow, Sherlock was terrible at empathy, 'I want to help you.'


	18. Chapter 18

The next day in the warehouse, Sophie spent the day on the laptop she had been given, finding everything she could about the ten years she had missed, it was unbelievable the amount that had happened while she had been sealled away. On the second day, Sophie left her room for the first time. She spent a long time deicding what to wear before she left, not as an act of vanity, but having unlimited choice of clothing after ten years of the same blue uniform, was apealing. She chose a white blouse, tucked into a black skirt with black kitten heels, comfortable enough to walk in, though still high enough to make her feel strong. Sophie even tried to put on some of the endless amounts of make up in her possesion, it was a lot harder than she had expected, though the red lipstick seemed to complete the outfit.

As Sophie stared into the large bathroom mirror, she realised how much she had changed in the last ten years, her hair was longer, darker, curlier. Her eyes were full of pain rather than childish joy. Her reflection stared back at her coldly, sending shivers down her spine, she turned away from herself, and left her room.

Walking out of her door, Sophie looked around nervously, she wasn't sure exactly what or who to expect. She leaned over the balcony to see several men wearing black standing in groups, Sophie knew they must be guards, though didn't know what they were guarding. Were there other people here? Were they guarding her? Sophie didn't have any plans to escape, she didn't even know where she would go. For now, Sophie's best chance was to co-operate.

Sophe walked along the first floor, her shoes clacking as she did so, the noise attracted some attention from the guards, though they did not follow her, or tell her to go back to her room, Sophie assumed what she was doing was allowed. After walking a few metres, Sophie reached a door. It was identical to hers, all the doors were, Sophie tried to make a mental note of where she was staying incase she got confused after her exploration.

Aproaching that door, Sophie felt just like a child again, full of curiosity, but fear. From what Sophie had already learnt of Moriarty, he seemed to simpley enjoy causing choas. None of his schemes had any meaning behind them, they were all for fun, all because he was bored. In Sophie's opinion, he was the worst type of man, a man who didn't value any life, not even his own. Though, Sophie's thoughts didn't impact her situation, and right now Sophie felt that if she didn't go along with Moriarty, she probably wouldn't live too long.

Sophie pushed open the door, the room was almost completely empty. The whole room was painted white, and in the centre was the only thing in the room, a white leather chair. The room made Sophie shudder, it reminded her too much of the white plastic rooms she had visited once before, she quickly shut the door and moved on.

Aproaching the next door along Sophie felt the same aprehension, though no fear, after the harmlessness of the last room, Sophie didn't feel there was any point in fear. Instead, Sophie felt a strang sort of curiosty building inside her. She opened the door to find a lot more than had been contained in the last room, she stepped inside slowly.

The room was filled with every type of weapon possible. There were guns lined up against one wall, blades on another. A large central table was covered in even more varieties. Sophie even noticed that the third wall was lined ith bombs.

Sophie looked around, wondering if this could just help her get out, or if this was what would keep her in. Sophie glanced behind her before walking up to the central table. She picked up a small knife that was completely silver. She rolled the handle between her hands, wondering if anyone would notice its disapearence, or if it simpley wasn't worth the risk. Sophie put down the blade a picked up s shot gun, this time she didn't think of using it in defense, but on herself. She held it up, felt the nib, wondering if it really was as painless as they said. Dying would make everything a lot simpler, no deals, no betrayals, no more endless pain. After all these years, Sophie was still so afraid, after all this time, she had no idea what happened to her in CURE, she had no idea if her family were alive, did they know she was alive? Her whole life had ended, so why shouldn't she? She didn't even have an identity anymore, she was Irene Adler, but Irene didn't exist, though neither did Sophie. Sophie had died years ago, thats what records said atleast. Sophie's ife had no perks, it hadn't for ten years.

After a minute of hesitation, Sophie shook her head and put the gun down. She didn't know what had come over her. She was strong, she would be okay, she always was. Sophie grabbed the knife she had handled moments ago and shoved in into her skirt waistbelt, hoping it didn't look as obvious as it felt.

She walked along to then next room and opened the door, this time with no hesitation. Inside the spacious room was three beds, three cupboards and an ajoining bathroom, Sophie assumed this was where the gaurds slept, mae a mental note, and moved on.

The next room contained something that surprised Sophie, the room was full of anything and everything about, to do with, containing Sherlock Holmes. Everything to do with anything concering him was on the walls of the room. Everything. Sophie looked around, confused. When Moriarty has said he had wanted to 'destroy' Sherlock, she didn't realise that he meant it, on the walls were his weaknesses, loved ones, anything that could hurt him.

'So I see you found my masterpeice.' Came a cool voice from behind Sophie, she turned around to see Moriarty smirking, 'But none of this matters right now, and I doubt you're ready for any of it anyhow. Though, I do have your first, shall we say,' Moriarty swivelled his hand as he looked to the ceiling in thought, 'mission.'


	19. Chapter 19

'So I have to kill someone?' Sophie asked quietly, she sat in the small chair next to Moriarty. All around the walls wewre pictures of Sherlock, his life, her relations to him. It was unsettling, he felt hundreds of his eyes staring, judging, hating her. Her knife dug into her waist as she sat up straight, unflinching from her 'mission'.

Moriarty shrugged, 'If you want to, I just said get Frank Hudson framed. Murder, possesion, something to get him in deep. The deeper the better. Preferable something he'll spend the rest of his life away for, but I'm flexible.'

Sophie looking down in thought, she didn't know quite what to do, she didn't even know who 'Frank Hudson' was, only that Moriarty didn't like him and he didn't like Moriarty, though, who would like Moriarty? She thought it through, Sophie had to do something, she didn't want to frame an innocent man, but from his profile he didn't exactly seem innocent anyway, and it didn't seems she had much choice other than how to go about getting him locked away.

'So you have a month, feel free to get in contact with any of the men here, or find someone, I don't care.' Moriarty stood up and began to walk towards the door, he stoppedjust before he left and said, 'You want to do this right. Don't get on my bad side, Sophie.'

A chill ran down Sophie's spin, even from that simple line, Sophie knew he was telling the truth, Moriarty was capable of awful things, as she was sure she would learn. Sophie was beginning to regret ever leaving the white, plastic walls of the CURE 'prison', though she was sure that if she had stayed she would be feeling exactly the same way.

Moriarty left, and Sophie found herself sitting alone in the dark room, surrounded by pictures of her best and only friend, though looking at his face now, she felt a hot rage rise up in throat. Why hadn't he helped her? It was his fault she had trusted Jim Moriarty, it was his fault she had to listen to him, it was his fault she had been in CURE, it was all his fault. But, she still wanted him to rescue her, she still hadn't completely lost trust in him, she didn't understand how she felt. She wanted to see Sherlock again, to be a child again, but that would never happen. Sophie's childhood haad ended long ago, and she assumed Sherlock's had too.

Sophie got up slowly and walked back to her room, clutching the file on Frank Hudson to her chest, looking down and trying to go unnoticed. She closed her door behind her and sat down on her bed, thinking. How could she frame a man? Could she frame a man? She didn't know how she would feel about it, it was wrong, but...

Sophie rubbed her temple and lay down sighing. Her enormous bed engulfed Sophie, and before she knew it, she was drifting into a restless sleep. Inside Sophie's room, there were no windows, and the clock on the wall said 3.30, she didn't know if it was in the morning or afternoon. After such a long time in CURE, time didn't seem to matter much to Sophie, she would sleep, she would wake, and on it went, though here, it might help her.

Sophie got up, blinking groggily around the light room, the chandaler was still on, she hadn't turned it off. Sophie walked to the bathroom, she was wearing the clothes she had worn before going to sleep, they were very crumpled. She went to her closet and picked something new to wear. This was one of Sophie's favourite parts about the warehouse (and there weren't many things she liked), the amount of choice, for once in her life, the choice was hers. Controlling her own life made Sophie feel strong and safe. Sophie picked a white lacy dress that brushed her knee, she wore it with a thick black belt and black pumps. Sophie put on blood red lipstick, bringing out all her best features. The paleness of the dress made her hair seem almost black.

Sophie thought about the events of the day before (atleast, she thought it was a day), how could she frame Frank? She was smart, but she hardly knew anything about Frank, his file only said where he lived and his job. She might have to go undercover. The thought excited and scared Sophie, the last time she had tried to find out information, she had been lcoked away for ten years, but it would be easy this time, she knew just who she was looking for.

Suddenly, there was a shar knock on the door. Sophie didn't know who it would be, she assumed Moriarty wouldn't bother to knock, and she didn't know anyone else.

She opened the door slowly, after picking up her small blade. Standing there was a woman, about Sophie's age, she asumed. She had ginger hair tied into a messy bun and wore leggings with an oversized green jumper. Her face was pretty, and Sophie couldn't imagine what she was doing in the warehouse.

Sophie gripped the knife tightly behind her back, 'Who are you?'

The girl smiled, 'I'm Kate.'

Sophie didn't open the door any wider, 'What are you doing here?'

Kate smiled again, trying to look friendly, 'I've been doing this sort of ' she looked around, searching for the word, 'work for a while, and I thought you could use some help I heard what happened with you and CURE and thought it would all be overwhelming, so I came to say hello.' Kate sensed the coldness coming from Sophie, 'I can go if you want,' she said unsurely.

'No', Sophie opened the door, 'It's okay, does Moriarty know you're here?'

Kate smirked, 'Not yet, we don't exactly get on too well, but I can tell him if you want.'

Sophie hurridly said, 'No,' Kate looked at her symapthetically.

Kate came in and sat on Sophie's bed, 'So, hows it going? You been given any tasks yet?' Kate sounded like she knew a lot about how Moriarty worked, Sophie wanted to ask why, but didn't feel it would be aproporiate, instead she just nodded as she put down her knife and passed the file over to Kate, who opened it and skimmed it through.

'Huh, Frank Hudson, that could be fun, and you don't have to feel bad about it at all, he's horrible, you know he beats his wife?' Kate shook her head as she continued to read through the papers.

Sophie stood awkardly in her room, feeling about ten next to this girl ho seemed to know everything about her and how to be a sucsessful criminal, but she liked Kate, she could tell. It was nice to have someone she could talk to, even if she barely knew her. Though, Sophie didn't know if she trusted Kate.

'How did you get in?' asked Sophie.

Kate smirked, 'Let's just say I did the men a few favours, works everytime, you should give it a try, I mean, if you want.' Kate stood up and started to explore Sophie's room, 'Moriarty is really trying to please you, what does he need anyways?'

Sophie shuffeled uncomfortably, unsure what to say, or if she should say anything at all, 'I knew Sherlock Holmes.' she mumbled, as if it was a regret.

Kate nodded, 'Oh, well that makes a lot of sense.'


	20. Chapter 20

Sherlock moaned, lying on the dirty mattress on the first floor of 221b.

His heart raced.

His head spun.

His hands shook.

His vision blurred, he blinked, trying to stay concious.

'Sh...Sher...Sherlock' a distant voice called, completely unrecongisable to Sherlock.

He blinked again as he tried to sit up, but he couldn't move.

'Urgh' he moaned, trying to form a comprehendable sentence.

'Sherlock! You're high!' the voice called again, though he couldn't make out the face properly, he nodded slightly in agreement.

The voice sighed then said, 'I've got news to tell you.'. Sherlock said 'urgh' again before rolling over trying to get away from the voice. He drifted out of conciousness, his head full of distorted, terrifying pictures.

The water splashed over his face like an icy blast, Sherlock's eyes fluttered open as he sprang up, breathing heavily. As his head jolted up, he realised who had been talking to him, Mrs. Hudson. She was standing over him now, looking very concerned and quite scared. Sherlock looked around the room, surounding him were other people passed out or huddled in corners. The room stunk of urine and vomit, the small lightbulb cast ominous shadows.

'You were out for hours, I thought you were going to die.' Mrs. Hudson said, 'You took too much Sherlock, I thought you were trying to stop. Why would you do this to yourself? I needed you.' Sherlock looked at Mrs. Hudson closely now, here face was covered in fresh open cuts and she was covered in lumps beginning to form bruises. He stood up abruptly to examine her, she winced as he did so, though didn't make a sound or pull away.

'Why?' he asked angrily.

Mr. Hudson just shrugged sadly, 'No reason really.' she said, trying to sound strong. Sherlock spun around, clenching his fists and gritting his teeth in anger. His head was throbbing and his stomach was pounding as if he was abut to throw it up, but Sherlock Holmes didn't care.

'Why were you high Sherlock?' Mrs. Hudson asked sadly.

'I was having an unpleasent dream.' he muttered, 'Anyway, its not important now.'

'You said you were trying to stop, now this?' she said, in a motherly way, as if she was more disapointed than angry.

'Didn't you listen,' Sherlock turned to her, raising his voice in frustraition, 'It doesn't matter!' Mrs. Hudson cowered as if she was expecting a blow, and Sherlock's face fell, 'I'm sorry,' he said genuinly, 'I just -'

cut him off with a wave of her hand, 'It's fine, dear.'

Sherlock stared at Mrs. Hudson's damaged face, 'Are you alright?' he asked, she nodded as if it hardly mattered, though Sherlock insisted, 'What happened?'

'Come downstairs and I'll explain, it disgusting up here.' Mrs. Hudson said as she looked around the room, nose wrinkled. Sherlock strided towards the door as quickly as he cold, though it was harder than he expected as he was still feeling quite dizzy. Mrs. Hudson followed him.

On reaching Mr. and Mrs. Hudson's home, Sherlock sat uncomfortably at the kitchen table, tapping impatiently while Mrs. Hudson prepared tea. Eventually she brought it over, and began.

'I was watching the news while I did my puzzles, the ones out of the papers, when this report came on about how there was a nation-wide hunt for Frank Hudson, they found out about his drug cartel. So, I go upstairs to wake you to tell you, but you passed out so deeply I couldn't wake you for the world. I come back downstairs after trying for a while, I don't like the other people up there, they always look at me funnily, and you know -'

Sherlock looked at her impatiently, 'So you go downstairs..' he lead her.

'Oh, I go downstairs and look up te rest of the report, and just then, Frank comes home. So, he comes in, ranting that it's my fault, and I told the police, which I didn't, and I tell him this, over and over, but he won't believe me. So then he well..' Mrs. Hudson shuffled uncomfortably, 'You know what he's like, anyway, after than he goes to pack a bag, saying he's going to stay with some collegues in Florida, then he leaves, slamming the door behind him, which is terrible for the hinges, I don't understand why Frank insists on slamming doors, there's no need -'

Sherlock stood up and paced the room, resting his palms together against his chin, 'So he's gone?' he asked.

Mrs. Hudson looked around, 'Well, he said so. We met in Florida,' Mrs. Hudson leaned back as she reminised, 'Back then was when I thought we were in love.' Mrs. Hudson laughed slightly bitterly, 'I should have known it would never have worked out, even then he had a small drug buisness, he came in to do some sort of deal with the owner of the gentlemen's club I was working at and -'

Sherlock turned to Mrs. Hudson in surprise, 'You were working at a strip club?'

Mrs. Hudson straighted herself, 'It was classier than that, paid well too.'

Sherlock started to pace again, confused by the woman beside him, 'Anyway, it's a good thing he's gone then, yes?'

Mrs. Hudson nodded, 'But, now what do I do? With all the people living upstairs, and the ones who come here for their drugs,' she rested her head on her hand, 'I only did the typing, I don't know how to manage all this, I don't even want to have a drug cartel, I never did. And what if he comes back? He goes to Florida for work often, he might be back in a few months, he's gone, but not for too long. It's not the first time someones reported him, buisness partners he's cheated, customers who can't afford it anymore. He knows how to hide, and come back.'

Sherlock sat back down, 'Well maybe we won't let him come back.'


	21. Chapter 21

'I need to get out of the country. Now.' Frank had been told to go to this man by a close friend, well, associate of his, but, as long as he could deliver, it would be okay.

'Where are you trying to get?' the suited man in a strong, gruff voice, he was in his mid-fifties and was more than a little bald, over weight and sweaty, he leaned back on his large armchair and studied Frank.

'Florida.' Frank said simply. All he had brought was money, a lot of money, and a change of underwear. Hopefully once in Florida he could get stay with his other, well… associates, they owed him more than a favors, but he wasn't sure they would care, now that he was the one on the run.

The bulging man scratched his temple, 'Hm, I think I can help you.' Frank internally sighed in relief, though his face remained as stony as it usually did. Frank Hudson facial expressions were limited to three; aggression, anger and hate. He was a man with no love and no pity. Of course, he hadn't always been that way, though time, experience, prison and crystal meth had changed that. Now Frank was a cold wall of pure ice, he hated having to go to someone else for help, he hated having to rely on others, but he did like his freedom, and was intent on keeping it, no matter the cost.

'Of course, it would cost you.' The man finally continued.

'I'm aware of that.' Said Frank tonelessly.

'A lot' the nameless man warned. Frank nodded reassuringly, and the man shuffled comfortably in his seat, he seemed happy to have a 'customer', or perhaps just to get the money.

'I do have a few conditions.' The man went on without Frank's approval this time, 'Only a few, though if you do not meet them, I cannot help you.'

'You must tell me why you need to leave Britain, you must tell me all of your past experience with the law, your profession and most importantly, your enemies, if any, though I assume you have at least a few.'

Frank nodded slowly as he listened, mentally noting every word he said, 'That will be fine.'

'Oh I hope so Mr. Hudson.' He said, mindlessly running his fingers through his almost non-existent hair, 'Because helping you would be my privilege, though I have no problem with destroying you, if you turn out to be untrustworthy.'

Frank nodded, 'As I you.' The man's eyes widened slightly in surprise.

'You might want to be careful, Mr. Hudson, because unlike me, you have a lot to loose.'

Frank titled his head, 'You overestimate yourself, I'm sure I can find many things to hurt you with, so how about instead of being enemies, we help each other.'

'And how, Mr. Hudson, can you help me?' the man asked.

'Well, Angelo,' the man's eyes widen again at the fact Frank knew his name, 'firstly, by not hurting you. Secondly, by not turning you into the police, and thirdly, by not telling your partner about all the secrets you're keeping from him.'

Angelo sat upright, 'You, Mr. Hudson, are trickier than I was told.' He studied Frank again, this time with a slight look of respect, 'But I appreciate your attitude towards business. I will help you, but only if you meet my conditions.'

Frank smiled, 'I wouldn't have it any other way.'

Frank left feeling satisfied, not only had he guaranteed his own safety, but he had negotiated down the price, and made sure that Angelo would keep to his terms and not tell anyone his location, well, he hoped he wouldn't. He would defiantly regret it if he did.

Frank signed into his hotel room, the place where he was staying was very cheap. The room was dingy and dark, reminding him of his own upper floor, though where he was staying did smell better. Also, his mattress wasn't on the floor, and the sheets were freshly washed, he hoped. Frank hoped that this place bad enough that they would neither notice nor care that a wanted criminal was staying there.

Frank sat down on his bed stiffly, he didn't feel comfortable there, he didn't particularly feel comfortable anywhere. Even in his own home, he hated his wife, he thought he might even hate her more than he hated the junkies on the second floor, though he wouldn't ask them to leave. They were guaranteed customers and he made a lot of money off of them.

Frank Hudson had grown sick of his wife long ago, like a toy he had grown tired off. He had never truly loved her, she was just a distraction, someone to adore him, which had been wonderful, but before he knew it, they were too far into a relationship, already married for six months, and getting a divorce required legal procedures, not being the most law abiding man, Frank would never take any unnecessary risks.

Frank removed the gun he always kept in his back pocket and placed it on the small, stained desk. The gun was an insurance he always needed, for angry customers who could no longer pay, for business deals gone wrong, for police on his trail. He had only had to use it twice, though it was worth bringing, just in case. If anything, Frank was a man of immaculate care and planning, before working with anyone, he would find everything he possibly could about them, and covered his own tracks perfectly, well as perfectly as possible, no-one was ever truly impossible to find.


	22. Chapter 22

Sophie continued to receive 'jobs' from Moriarty, and with the help of Kate, could usually carry them out. Moriarty never learnt about Kate, even Sophie didn't know how she did it, she could practically slip away in a second without any trace if she needed to. Kate never spoke about her past, or why she helped Sophie, or even how she knew any of the things she knew, and she seemed to somehow know everything; about Sophie, about Moriarty, about 'persuading' people. In fact, Sophie suspected Kate might know more about, well, everything, than Moriarty did, though she couldn't know anything for sure, Moriarty wasn't exactly the type to chat about his plans, and Sophie could tell he had many, significant ones, none involving her. Moriarty only came to see Sophie when he wanted her to do something for him, though she could never be sure when that would happen. Sometimes weeks would come and go without a word from him, though sometimes she would get handed three files at once.

At first she was given easy tasks, she would be told to get someone who Moriarty disliked caught doing something by someone, hire someone to do something, vague things with little impact, for her at least. Sophie usually left the warehouse for these tasks, though never unaccompanied, she was escorted by a man, armed and dressed in black, which was much more off-putting than actually completing the task. Each time she had left, which was only a couple, she was escorted, and although she longed to, she didn't dare to run off. To begin, she had no-where to go, even if she could get away.

Moriarty either trusted her, or thought she was completely alone and helpless in the world, which she would have been without Kate. Though even with Kate, the person Sophie trusted most, there was always a nagging sensation she was being used, lied to, or would somehow end up hurt. Although, these feeling were never confirmed by any of Kate's actions, all she seemed to do was help, especially with the things Sophie couldn't quite handle. This wasn't much of an issue at first, though as Sophie's tasks got harder, they involved different things.

The first time Sophie was faced with anything harder than hiring a man, Sophie was summoned to Moriarty's office on the ground floor of the warehouse as usual. The office was bigger than any of the other rooms Sophie had explored, which was all except four door which were always locked, she has no idea what was inside, and there weren't even keyholes to look through. Though, despite its size, the rooms was cold and bleak. It was decorated in grey, grey walls, grey wooden floorboards, and grey furniture. And, at the large grey desk, sat James Moriarty, in a grey suit, his head cocked sideways in thought, the usual off-putting look in his eyes which was distant yet sinister.

When Moriarty saw Sophie had entered, he blinked before indicating lazily to the seat on the other side of the desk. She walked across the room, her black heels clacking against the floorboards and sat down, sitting awkwardly straight. Sophie didn't like Moriarty's office, or Moriarty for that matter. He had been generous, with her room, clothes and treatment, though that didn't change the fact she was all but trapped.

After Sophie was seated, Moriarty took a moment to breathe in deeply before saying, 'The file is in front of you, read it here. I want to see you read it.' He then closed his eyes and leaned back, which gave the strong impression he didn't actually care about watching her read a file. Though, silent yet stubbornly, Sophie picked up the file and began to read.

On the first page there were the details of three people; Charley Stone, Georgia Wood and Daniel Moore. It said their name, age, occupation and where they lived. Sophie turned over for more information, though the sheet behind the first was blank.

'It doesn't say anything.' Said Sophie, confused, looking towards Moriarty for answers, though he was still leaning back with his eyes closed. Sophie continued, 'They haven't got any criminal records, or large business, they're all ordinary unrelated people, completely ordinary.'

Moriarty smirked, his eyes still closed, 'Completely ordinary.' He agreed.

'Then why do I have a file with nothing but them in it?' Sophie asked, even more confused, she had guessed they were all spies, deep undercover, or police, or…anything. Just, something important. A reason to target them.

Moriarty continued by opening his eyes and shrugging, 'I get bored.' Sophie blinked in surprise, still unsure why this was relevant, or why their names were in her file. Moriarty studied her, a playful look lingering in his eyes as she tried to work out what was happening. Finally, Sophie turned her head to look at him, defeated, making Moriarty grin widely.

'I want you to kill them.' Moriarty said calmly.

Sophie looked at him, still confused, 'You want me to hire someone? Why? You just said they were completely ordinary.'

Moriarty rolled his eyes, 'I don't want to hire someone. I want you, personally, to kill them. And, yes, they are completely ordinary. Boringly so actually.'

Sophie's eyes widened, 'I'm not killing three people for no reason.'

Moriarty frowned theatrically, 'C'mon,' he said, 'It'll be fun.'

'No.' said Sophie and she stood up , and began to walk away, until Moriarty's voice stopped her.

'You know this isn't a game, Sophie. You know you don't have a choice. The only difference is how much I need to convince you, and trust me, you won't like it. I suggest you do as your told, be a good little girl and you won't get hurt.'

Sophie clenched her jaw, she was facing away from Moriarty but could practically hear his smile. She stood motionless for a few seconds, before continuing to walk away, though much slower than last time. The room was silent but for the clacking of Sophie's heels.

After the painful silence, Sophie reached the door and pulled it open, just to discover she couldn't move it an inch. Moriarty didn't move or make a sound, until Sophie turned to face him in confusion.

'I thought you might be like this.' He said, his voice strangely happy, 'So I took some precautions. Hopefully, I can make you change your mind.' Moriarty stood up smiling, 'So, Sophie. This isn't the first time you've done something I don't like.' He waited, to see if she would understand what he was saying. As it dawned on her, her face turned pale.

'Kate?' she whispered.

Moriarty nodded slowly in response, 'How long did you think you could hide her from me Sophie?'

Sophie opened her mouth but no words came out for what seemed like forever. Finally, she took a deep breath, and said, 'Let me out.'

Moriarty sighed, 'Is that the most intelligent answer you can come up with?'

'Let me out.' Sophie said again, her voice rising, 'Let me out! You're crazy!'

Moriarty grinned, 'You should have been able to work that out sooner.'


	23. Chapter 23

'Are you sure you want to come?' asked Sherlock to the packing Mrs. Hudson, it was strange, but he had actually grown fond of her and wanted to help.

'I do.' she assured him as she continued to shove clothes into her small case hurriedly, the plane was going to leave in five hours. Sherlock was sitting on a chair with his tucked to his chest, he looked healthier than he had done a few month ago, and cleaner. Instead of a large, dirty coat, he wore his blue scarf which had kept since he had received it on his fifth birthday and a shirt. His previously matted hair was in tight black curls and his eyes seemed more alive, though that was more to do with the fact something interesting was finally happening.

'We might not be able to do anything. It might just be a waste of time.' Sherlock warned.

Mrs. Hudson shrugged, 'Then we'll have a holiday. You know, I haven't had a holiday for years, been so busy here, well, Frank's been so busy, you know.' Sherlock just nodded politely as Mrs. Hudson talked on. If it had been anyone else talking, he probably would have told them to shut up, or would have stopped listening, but not Mrs. Hudson. He wanted to listen to her, she was like his Mother in a way.

'Florida is nice in the summer, it will be fun.' Mrs. Hudson said.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow, 'We're going to your husband's trial. It not exactly going to be a vacation.'

Mrs. Hudson shrugged, 'We can still have fun, we'll go to the beach.' Sherlock looked at her, he found it strange how calm she was. Her husband was on trial for killing two men, though, he hadn't exactly been the nicest partner. The only reason they had to go to Florida was because it looked like Frank was going to win the case, though Sherlock knew that he was guilty. It was obvious really. If Frank got away, he might come back to Baker Street, and Sherlock wanted to keep him as far away from Mrs. Hudson as possible.

Sherlock found it amusing that he hadn't even needed to set Frank Hudson up in anyway, his own disregard for being inconspicuous and, Sherlock assumed, enemies had done it all for him. Now he jut had to finish it all off. Frank had been forced to flee England when his cartel had been exposed, Mrs. Hudson had correctly guessed he had gone to Florida, where, from the news, Sherlock knew he had killed two people. Idiot. Though, the jury were just as stupid, and he had convinced them all he was innocent, so, Sherlock had to go to Florida to convince them otherwise. And Mrs. Hudson wanted to come too.

'Have you ever been to Florida Sherlock?' asked Mrs. Hudson as she zipped up her case.

Sherlock shook his head slightly, 'No.'

Mrs. Hudson lifted her zipped suitcase from the bed and set it down on the floor, 'Right. I'm ready, the taxi should be here in a minute.'

Sherlock glanced at his watch, '40 seconds' he mumbled.

'What?' asked Mrs. Hudson.

'The taxi should be here in - never mind, taxi's here.' From outside 221b a taxi beeped impatiently. Sherlock and Mrs. Hudson walked to the door, Sherlock carrying a large rucksack lugged over one shoulder, Mrs. Hudson pulling her case. They left the building, got into the taxi, and were gone.

The journey to the airport took longer than expected, and was more expensive than they had hoped, and by the time they reached the airport, they had to rush a little to actually catch their plane. The queues seemed to drag on for ever, though Sherlock wasn't bored, he was thinking, about Frank, though more about everyone around him. There was a sea of people, each with lives, jobs, friends, families, secrets. And Sherlock could read each of them as easily as a book. He really didn't understand how other people couldn't, it was just so obvious, painfully so really. The man ahead of them was with his wife, they were just married and about to leave for their honeymoon, though the woman was already having doubts. The old man in front of them was visiting his grandchildren, he only got to see them once every few years, and was angry at their Mother. People were so plain, so simple, so boring.

'How can I help you, ma'am?' asked the woman at the front desk to Mrs. Hudson, without realising it, they had reached the front of the queue.

'Flight to Florida, Hudson.' She said politely.

The woman typed something into the computer then continued, 'Alright, here are your tickets, have a good flight.'

Sherlock and Mrs. Hudson got onto the plane soon after, and they were on their way to Florida.


	24. Chapter 24

Sophie sat huddled in the corner of the dark, damp room though instead of white walls, she was surrounded by rough concrete. Her head was tucked into her knees, she felt awful, and hungry, and thirsty. So thirsty. In the dark concrete room, Sophie couldn't tell what time or was, nor how much time had passed. Sitting in the darkness, Sophie had nothing to do but think, about what she was doing, what she had to do, all the people she would hurt, all the people who had hurt her. Thoughts engulfed Sophie and soon the room was maddening. No noise, no people, no light.

Sophie wondered how long she had been in the room, how much longer she would be there, how much longer it would be until she got water. Sophie couldn't know what was happening outside, what had happened to Kate? Was she okay? Was she in a room too? Was she facing something worse?

Sophie sat, eyes closed, thinking. There was nothing to do but think. Think. Think. Think. At first, Sophie had obviously tried to get out, though it hadn't taken her long to realise how pointless and futile her efforts were. She had banged and pushed the door, but it stayed strong, not moving an inch. There hadn't been any windows to even try and open. She had shouted, before realising no-one could hear her, or at least, if they could, they didn't care.

Even though the room was maddening, it definitely didn't make Sophie want to kill three people. She didn't understand what Moriarty was trying to do, was he keeping her there while he set up something else? Was he just going to let her die?

What felt like days, months, even years later. The heavy concrete door opened. Sophie lifted her head and squinted, it was strange to see light after so long in the darkness. After her eyes adjusted, she could see a man framing the doorway. She had never seen him before.

'Come with me.' he said, before turning away from the door and walking to the right. Sophie stood up hesitantly, and followed him. She had to walk faster than usual to keep up with the man's long strides, and found herself a little out of breath.

Sophie was still wearing the clothes from however long ago it was, and had her silver blade tucked into her skirt. She felt it press against her skin, it was warm from her own body heat.

'How long was I in there?' Sophie asked the man, he didn't answer or acknowledge her, he just continued walking.

'Where are we going?' Sophie asked, 'Who are you?' Still, the man did not utter a sound.

Finally, he stopped outside a room. The movement was so sudden, Sophie practically jumped into him. The man turned to Sophie, his eyes angry. He gestured towards the door, telling Sophie to enter, then walked away.

Sophie stood trying to decide whether she wanted to go inside, what else was there for her to do? Her life seemed to be following instructions mindlessly, the one time she had said no, look where it got her. A dark cell.

Sophie still hadn't had anything to drink, and realised now her mouth was aching. She glanced at the door, sighed, and entered.

This room was white plastic, it made Sophie shiver. There was no furniture but a white chair in the centre, where Moriarty was sitting, staring at the ceiling with his usual bored expression. To the right of the room was a doorway with no door. Sophie couldn't see what was in there, but she didn't think she was looking forward to finding out.

When Moriarty heard to soft shut of the door, his head slowly rolled forward, eyes closed. He opened and reached Sophie. He smiled widely, almost maliciously at her, as if he was cat who had just found a mouse to play with.

When Sophie saw Moriarty she gritted her teeth, she was angry, obviously, but more than that, she was scared, though she supposed that was probably the normal reaction to being locked in a room for however long in the care of a madman.

Sophie stood, tense and silent. Moriarty remained seated, completely calm, it was the first time she had truly seen Moriarty smile. And it was truly terrifying.


	25. Chapter 25

Sherlock Holmes and Martha Hudson sat together at the front of the court room, waiting. It had taken some time, but after many phone calls, emails and, meetings, the prosecuting lawyer of the case 'Frank Hudson verse the State' had finally listened to what he had to say, which had of course been correct from the start.

'Mr. Holmes, your argument just doesn't make sense, please just leave me alone, I have a job to do!' The lawyer, Percy Williams had told him more than once, but Sherlock had never been one to give up so easily, especially with something as important to him as Mrs. Hudson's safety.

Together, they sat. Waiting, waiting to see Frank, for the trial to start for the day. The trial had been ongoing throughout the week, Frank was very good at telling lies and casting the blame onto others Sherlock noticed, and when he wanted to, he could seem innocent enough not to hurt a fly. Frank had convinced almost the entire jury that it hadn't been him who shot two drug dealers in the face, he claimed to have been on the other side of America at the time, shown by his receipts and several eye witnesses, though Frank had forgotten one important thing.

He hadn't thought to get rid of the security cameras in his hotel car park. No-one had thought to check the back-entrance. They had checked the lobby, seen nothing, and assumed he was either at a different hotel, or was telling the truth. After examining Frank's hotel for a few minutes, well, seconds, Sherlock knew the he was guilty. Not from the cameras, from his room. The mess suggested he had been there and not left, as it was clear to see his clothes hadn't been re-packed into a case from the fact there was only one folding line on each of his shirts. There were wrappers in the bin which had to be from eight days ago, when the shooting took place.

Of course, Sherlock knew from experience that no-one would take his word in a criminal case due to folding lines and expiry dates, the lawyer had laughed at him, so he had to find hard evidence. That was the security tape.

Mrs. Hudson was completely silent, by Sherlock's side. Sherlock didn't think there had ever been a time she wasn't chatting away happily, not even minding if anyone was listening, but now, nothing. She was just sitting, waiting. Sherlock hadn't been too sure of human emotions for years, he had cut himself off from everything human after he essentially killed, well, he assumed she was dead, Sophie, but now, he guessed she was scared. That was the only logical explanation he could think of. She was about to see her abusive husband who was a convicted criminal. Though, Sherlock thought Mrs. Hudson didn't really need to be scared, she was safe here, her husband couldn't touch her, and if he even tried, Sherlock would protect her.

Finally, Frank brought out. He looked worse than either of them had ever seen him, his body was covered in week-old, yellow bruises, his back stooping, he was only looking at the floor, as if he was both ashamed and angry. He reached the witness stand and sat stiffly, his fists clenched and brow furrowed deep.

The trial began, Sherlock didn't really listen, it was all boring facts, and after a few minutes he had blocked everything out completely, and was away in his mind palace. Over the years, his palace had got bigger, better, and filled with more and more things, memories, facts, dates. Anything that could ever help him do anything. Sherlock's mind palace was the one place he felt safe, no-one could threaten him or hurt him. No-one beside him was even there, but that didn't mean he was lonely, only picky about who was worth spending time with.

Mrs. Hudson did listen to the trial, she listened very carefully. She needed to know what would happen to her husband. Percy Williams finally presented his, well, Sherlock's, case. At first, the jury looked at him sceptically, though after he showed them the security footage, no-one could doubt Frank's guilt, and he knew it. Martha did think she had ever seen Frank look so angry, it was terrifying. His whole face contorted, and turned a shade of purple. But it didn't matter, he couldn't do anything, or hurt anyone anymore.


	26. Chapter 26

Kate parked her Harley-Davidson half a mile away from the warehouse, she hadn't been to see Sophie in around a week, she had been very busy with...other work, but she did miss Sophie and was looking forward to seeing her again.

It was strange, at first, the only reason Kate had been interested in Sophie was to get more intel on Moriarty, which is all she had seemed to be doing recently, but she had really started to care for her. She didn't deserve any of this, she'd just got mixed up in it all and it wasn't fair. Kate wanted to help Sophie, but, she didn't want to get on the wrong side of Moriarty. Again.

Kate walked towards the warehouse, her converses making a soft pat as they hit the hard earth. She wore tight jeans with an oversized white jumper, her auburn hair tied, as usual into a messy bun. She flicked a few fly-away strand of hair across her shoulder as she continued to walk, quietly, towards the warehouse. She wasn't scared of James, she had nothing left to fear from him. Nothing. But even still, she was slightly nervous, she always when she thought of him, and what he had done.

Reaching the warehouse, she went around to the back and opened the door she hoped only she and a limited few knew about. The guards, if you could call them that, had never been much of an issue. Kate thought they were probably just for show, she knew for a fact he could get better, they were probably to scare Sophie and who-ever else was there. Kate didn't think they could physically hurt anyone with any combat training, and they had positively no morals, they had sold James out in seconds when she had offered them what she knew they would want. Though, perhaps James wanted all this to happen, he had always been one for elaborate, useless plans only to make himself look good, if you called destroying people's lives making yourself look good, then James Moriarty was the best.

Kate's phone beeped as she walked through the tight doorway, she pulled it casually out of her back pocket and read;

_UNDER WAY – KEEP LOOK OUT FOR G._

_H IN MINOR TROUBLE, WILL BE OK._

Kate smiled slightly at the good news, for once they seemed to finally be making some progress. It had been a long time since the news Kate had received was this positive, much too long. But, that was all about to change. Kate's smile grew to a grin, then a beam. By the time she reached Sophie's room, she was positively glowing. That all changed when she stepped inside. Her face fell instantly. She felt herself grow cold.

Where Sophie should have been, sat James, at the end of her bed. Wearing his spotless grey suit, he sat completely still waiting for her. When he heard the door open, he slowly turned to look, cocking his head towards the noise. Now he was the one to smile, his smile was cruel and terrifying, and implied everything she knew he was capable of.

'Katie.' he said, rolling the word against his tongue, she gritted her teeth at the sound of his crisp voice, though he continued, 'You took longer than I expected. Don't you care about poor little Sophie?' he asked, his voice mocking.

Kate opened her mouth, for a second no noise came out, she stood, confused, and angry and even though she had thought she wasn't afraid of James any more, in that instant she realised how wrong she was, how stupid she had been.

'Where' Sophie?' she asked quietly, her mouth dry.

James smirked, his eyes dancing, 'You should have come earlier.' Kate took a step towards James, but he simply lifted his finger and continued, 'Don't worry. She's fine.'

'For how long?' asked Kate.

James stood up now, Kate wanted to step away from him, but forced herself to be still, 'See, Sophie's just fine. I need her, and I think I will for a very long time but, I don't need you. You're in my way. You always have been in my way.' He leant against the bedpost in the perfect room, 'What you're asking is _What's going to happen to Sophie?_, but what you should be asking,' James moved until he was mere centimetres from Kate, so close she could smell his peppermint breath, 'is _what's going to happen to me. _You've been a nuisance for too long, and I'm glad you found Sophie actually, because that allowed me to find you.'

Kate stood in utter silence, terrified. All her feelings of hate she used to have for him came rushing back faster than a wave. She remembered what he had done, clearer than ever.

'Don't threaten me James. It won't end well for you. I'm not afraid of you act.' Kate spat at him.

Moriarty raised his eyebrow as he took a step back, 'You face begs to differ, you look even more scared than you did back when..' his lips curled into a smile.

'What? You're still upset about all that?' he asked, 'but it was so long ago!'

'Don't you dare.' said Kate.

James was the one to tense up now, 'Don't. Tell me. What to do. Ever.'

But Kate couldn't stop, 'How dare you? How absolutely dare you? Are you even human you utter psychopath? You don't do anything but hurt people, you did nothing but hurt them. Don't you dare even talk about it. You ruined my life. You made me this, you made me..' Kate stopped as she realised she was crying, she blinked away her tears angrily, but James had already seen them. They only widened his smirk.

'Katie. Always the best, well not any more. I'm the best. I beat you.' James said to Kate.

'This isn't some stupid competition! These are peoples lives!' Kate screamed, though James didn't even flinch. He didn't care.

'Katie, none of it matters. None of it. Everyone's just so boring, you know? Even you. You were my friend, but then you left me. Why?' James sounded sad, though Kate could tell it was only an act, even so she couldn't bottle her anger.

'You know why! You know exactly what you did!' Before Kate could stop herself, he lunged her fist forward and hit, as hard as she could. James didn't make a sound as the fist hit him, nor as Kate lowered her hand panicked, nor as he wiped blood from his trickling nose.

After what felt like years, he said, 'You're going to regret that. Katie, dear.'


End file.
